


Ruffian

by mandykaysfic



Series: Delta Quadrant Romances [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, Harlequin, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite pressure from his parents, Tom Paris does not wish to rush into a marriage with one of the insipid friends that he hangs around with. Since the admiral is applying the pressure for the good of the legacy, Tom gives his hand to Commander Chakotay. The gallant officer is everything that Tom wants in his husband - he is charming, very handsome with dark good looks to offset the blond of Tom, dashing and very imaginary. Happy to be married to a fictitious husband, Tom is very surprised when the real Commander Chakotay appears on the scene and claims Tom for his own. Determined not to reveal his secrets, Tom doesn’t count on being swept up in the best intrigue of all - their explosive passionate love.</p>
<p>A Delta Quadrant Romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Paris Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> The Intrepid Publishing Company is pleased to present the latest tale in the Delta Quadrant Romance Series. Inspired by the archives and personal logs of the crew of the U.S.S Voyager, these stories of romance and high adventure are presented for your pleasure.

Rose tapped on the bedroom door. As was often the case in this situation there was no answer, so following her usual routine she knocked once more, this time a little harder, and then entered straight away. The curtains had not been completely drawn and a thin sliver of light gave enough illumination for her to safely navigate the floor around piles of clothes, shoes and other sundry items strewn over the floor until she stood beside the bed.

The occupant of the bed lay sprawled out on his stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest as he slept. He hadn’t bothered to crawl under the covers, although he’d taken the time to strip down to his underwear. Rose grasped his shoulder and shook him gently. “Tom. Wake up, Tom,” she said firmly. There was no response. She looked down at the only son of the household and sighed in exasperation. Not troubling to be quiet, she made her way over to the bathroom and retrieved the medical tricorder Tom kept in the cabinet. 

She scanned him, sagging a little with relief as she examined the readings. There was only alcohol in his system this time. Normally she would have just let him continue to sleep off the effects. Like a mother she’d stirred briefly when he arrived home this morning, stumbling in through the back door and past her rooms on his way to the staircase. She’d glanced blearily at the clock and noting she had fifty-seven minutes until she had to rise at 0600 hours, she’d turned over and gone back to sleep. Admiral Paris insisted his household keep military time and after many years service, Rose automatically thought in twenty-four hundred hour cycles. This morning however, the admiral had requested she inform his son he was required for a conference with his parents in the living room at 0900 sharp.

Rose shook Tom’s shoulder again and bent a little closer, speaking his name with more authority and less of the kindly housekeeper in her tone. He responded with a groan and dug his face more deeply into the pillow. With less than thirty minutes to get Tom downstairs, she took the tricorder back to the bathroom and returned with a hangover remedy, of which she noted in passing there were only two left. She pressed the hypospray to his neck, then disposed of the empty canister to the recycling unit and opened the curtains wide while she waited for it to start working. Two minutes later, she shook him a third time. Tom groaned again and turned his head. He raised himself onto his elbows and squinted in the bright light.

"Rose. It’s you. I see I made it home. What’s up?" 

"Front and center, Tom. The admiral wants you downstairs in twenty minutes."

A few choice expletives escaped Tom’s lips, and he glanced apologetically at Rose. “Sorry. What does he want this time?”

"I don’t have even an inkling, Tom, but the interview is with both of your parents, at 0900 hours in the formal living room."

Tom swung himself around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed leaning forward. He palmed his eyeballs and cursed mentally in deference to Rose.

“Dad - and Mom - on an empty stomach. Urgh. It’s okay, Rose. Living room, 0900 hours. I’ll be there on time.”

He straightened up and looked around for some clothes. Rose, seeing he was not going to lie down again, turned and left him to it. Tom pulled on a pair of faded jeans and picked up a sleeveless black t-shirt from the floor. His arms felt chilled and he tried to rub the goosebumps away. A crumpled shirt made an acceptable jacket. He stumbled into the bathroom. There was no time to shave, so he contented himself with splashing cold water on his face and running his fingers through his hair. He was unable to find a pair of shoes in the few remaining minutes. He ended up loping downstairs barefooted to enter the living room right on time. 

Tom’s stomach knotted uneasily as he surveyed his parents standing side by side; his mother usually stood a little behind his father. This united front unnerved him, as did their almost formal dress. Miriam Paris wore a pale pink angora twin set with a grey knee length skirt of pure wool. Her shoes were handmade grey suede, and the Paris pearls gleamed on her breast. Her still-blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, even at this early hour. His father’s choice of clothing scared Tom more. The Starfleet uniform was absent; instead, Owen Paris wore a grey suit, several shades darker than Miriam’s skirt, and a paisley tie.

Owen coughed politely. “Good morning, Thomas. I’m glad to see you made it here on time. Why don’t you sit down?” He indicated one of the matched pair of sofas. 

Tom slouched over and lowered himself onto the cushions. He restrained himself from swinging his feet up onto the coffee table that stood between the sofas. He planted his feet apart and rested his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands loosely in front and waited for the ax to fall.

Miriam slid carefully to the far side of the opposite couch, angled her body carefully to face Tom, and neatly crossed her ankles. She patted the cushion next to her, and Owen joined her awkwardly.

“Thomas…Tom…Son…” began Owen. 

Tom frowned. He could not recall having seen his father so nervous, however that did not negate the fact that he simply did not want to be here.

“We’ve asked you to join us for a very important reason.”

“You always say it’s always important,” muttered Tom sullenly, studying the carpet intently.

“What did you say, dear?” asked Miriam. She took in Tom’s frayed and ripped jeans that clung to his lower body just a little too closely for Miriam’s comfort, likewise the tight black t-shirt. His hair was dirty and could do with a more than a trim. The three-day growth of beard gave him a wild look. He needed a shower. She sighed inwardly. Her son looked like a ruffian.

“Nothing. Go on.”

“Tom, in three month you will be twenty-four.”

Startled, Tom looked up. He rapidly performed a few mental calculations. Shit! The old man was right. Tom never worried about such mundane things as birthdays.

Seeing he now had Tom’s attention, Owen doggedly pressed on, “Next year you will be twenty-five.”

No kidding, Tom mentally interjected, as he waited for his father to continue. 

“The Paris Legacy comes into effect on your twenty-fifth birthday. Son, the legacy states you must be married. It is time for you to stop sowing your wild oats. Now as you have shown no interest in forming a permanent relationship, your mother and I have taken the opportunity to plan a ball for your birthday. I, that is, we have organized a selection of women from which you will be able to select a suitable wife. By choosing now, you may have some time to get to know her before announcing your engagement.”

“Valentine’s Day would be so romantic,” cooed Miriam. 

Ignoring his wife’s interruption, Owen continued, “You may like to be married on your actual twenty-fifth birthday, if your fiancée doesn’t favor a particular date. As long as you are wed by midnight, that condition of the legacy will be fulfilled.”

“Tommy, dear, we don’t wish you to be unhappy. We want a complete list of all of your friends to invite them too. Perhaps you would like to propose to one of them. What about that sweet little Bajoran girl? What was her name? Celes?”

“Celes? You mean Tal Celes?” Tom’s voice rose in disbelief. Yes, he had dated Celes for a while, but had dropped her several weeks ago. The shy, dark-eyed young woman had developed a crush on Tom and had taken to hanging out at the edge of the in crowd, turning up to wherever the party was happening and watching him adoringly from afar. Initially asking her out in response to a dare by the others who had recognized Celes’ infatuation way before Tom did, he was charmed by her clumsy innocence. However, when she refused to have sex with him in any other way except in the missionary position with the lights off, and cried if he so much as suggested a little oral loving, Tom ended the relationship and returned to his more worldly friends. No way would he spend the rest of his life in what he considered a sexual desert. “I can’t marry Celes, Mom.” Tom thought wildly. “You see, um, she and Billy Telfer got engaged last night. We were out celebrating,” he lied smoothly, thankfully.

“Oh isn’t that nice. Pass on our congratulations when you see her next.”

“What about the Delaneys?” suggested Owen. “Or one of them. Good Starfleet family, the Delaneys.”

“The Delaneys?” queried Miriam.

“Frazer’s girls. You must remember them,” said Owen impatiently.

“Jenny and Megan? But aren’t they only fifteen?”

“You’re thinking of the second twins, Penny and Reagan. Jenny and Megan are at least a year older than Tom. They…er…hang out together.”

“But…”

Tom tuned out his parents’ discussion about the Delaney progeny. They would now continue arguing back and forth for some time. He turned his mind to Jenny and Megan Delaney. Known to most of San Francisco as the ‘Wild Ones’, the twins sowed more oats than Tom. Always game for anything, the twins’ menu of sexual proclivities apparently knew no boundaries, but despite their casual lifestyle, the girls were well liked by their friends. Both shared an unfailing sense of good humor and never held grudges. Both were also incredibly intelligent, and Tom had no doubt that one day they would settle down and become responsible citizens. 

In the mean time, there were two reasons against him taking either of them for a wife. For one, adultery was not tolerated. The Paris Legacy was most specific. Once married, both parties were expected to remain faithful to one another, as promised in their wedding vows. Tom knew the Delaneys’ views on marriage as he had heard them often enough. Marriage was an outmoded institution, and if by some remote chance either of them found themselves wed, the contract was to state implicitly the marriage was to be of the open kind for its duration. Tom also knew that whist he may rail against marriage for himself, he was a Paris and he would live by the Paris Legacy as had his parents, and his grandparents, and the generations of Paris’s before them.

The other reason he wouldn’t marry either of the Delaneys was a fact he was sure his father had forgotten - Admiral Frazer Delaney disliked Tom intensely. A college prank some years back had gone wrong, leaving Admiral Delaney in a most embarrassing position, for which he had rightly blamed Tom and never forgiven him. There was no way he would accept Tom as a son-in-law.

Meanwhile, he had to divert his parents from wedding Tom to Jenny or Megan, or anyone else for that matter. The hangover cure had long since taken effect, but the lack of coffee and breakfast, not to mention a shower was beginning to tell. Tom desperately tried to synchronize some brain cells. 

“Mom, Dad,” he interjected, “I can’t marry Jenny or Megan. The girls have decided to take a sabbatical on Risa. You know they both have degrees in various meteorological fields. An opportunity has opened on there, where you know they have the most sophisticated weather control technology in the quadrant. It would simply not be fair to expect either of them to give up a prestigious posting like this. They would be gone for several years and it would be even less fair for the one who stayed behind to get married.” It wasn’t a total lie. Jenny and Megan were planning to go to Risa, just not to study the weather.

“That’s wonderful news, Tommy. Frazer and Janet must be so proud. I must call Janet…”

“No, Mom, you can’t!” Tom interrupted frantically. “It’s a secret. Jenny and Megan haven’t told their parents yet. Please, wait until they tell you.”

“Very well, Tommy. I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. In that case, what about that other young woman you’ve been dating? The engineer. What’s her name again?”

“Miriam!”

“Now, Owen. We discussed this at length. We will welcome whomever Tommy chooses into this family.”

“But she dropped out of Starfleet in her second year. I told you at the time if she hadn’t left voluntarily she would have been expelled. And now she works for Maquis Research and Development. Also she’s positively notorious, always getting her picture in the tabloids for something.” Owen’s voice came to a halt when Miriam pressed her foot against his.

“Tommy was photographed with her too, Owen, and not in a favorable light. You can’t hold that against her.”

Tom flushed and ran his fingers along his jaw, glad the stubble hid a fading bite mark from his last encounter with B’Elanna Torres. His shirtsleeves concealed the yellowing bruises near his wrists he hadn’t bothered regenerating and various other parts of his fair skin bore testament to the rough sex they enjoyed together. He’d met B’Elanna in one of the seedier pubs. A brawl had broken out, the press had had a field day and that was the first time they’d been linked together. Sure, they had fun, and enjoyed each other’s company. B’Elanna was smart, attractive and he was drawn to her sparkling brown eyes, but thinking about having her in his life permanently cast a completely new light on matters. Tom did not want every encounter in the bedroom, or anywhere else, to finish up with a mutual regeneration service. Suddenly, a suitable excuse popped into his mind. He could get B’Elanna removed from the list of prospective wives in a way that would put him in a good light with his parents.

“Dad, Mom, it’s really great that you would welcome B’Elanna into our family, but I have to tell you, I don’t think she would…err…make a ‘suitable’ wife. She’s inclined to be a little short tempered and diplomatic situations might prove rather stressful for everyone. She’s a great friend, but I can’t marry her.” I don’t want to marry anyone, he added to himself.

“See, Miriam. I knew Thomas would be sensible. Son, I’ve taken the liberty of putting together a database of some suitable prospective wives for you to look at before the ball.” He pushed the stack of PADDs that sat on the coffee table towards Tom and leaned back, a relieved smile settling over his features.

Tom could think of nothing to do except pick up the first PADD. A formal Starfleet portrait of a woman with her hair arranged in a bun looked back at him. 

“Captain Kathryn Janeway,” Tom read aloud.

“A fine woman,” beamed Owen. “She served under me on the Al-Batani. She just made captain.”

Owen couldn’t keep the pride from his voice as he extolled her virtues for several minutes. Miriam watched Tom closely and saw the fleeting expression of hurt cross his face before his features hardened and then settled back into something neutral. She restrained the urge to kick Owen in the shins. He never displayed any enthusiasm or pride in anything Tom had achieved over the past ten years. 

“She’s too old,” said Tom expressionlessly and dropped the PADD onto the seat next to him.

“She understands the duty of a ’fleet wife,” encouraged Owen.

“You said she’s just made captain,” Miriam broke in, disapproving Owen’s choice as much as Tom. “She’s not going to want to give up command of a starship for marriage just yet.”

“Tom would be assigned to her ship,” began Owen. 

Sensing another argument about to commence between his parents, Tom picked up the next PADD. A red-haired woman in black and blue was pictured smiled cheerfully.

“Doctor Beverley Crusher.” Tom scanned her bio. “She’s the CMO on the Enterprise. For chrissakes Dad, she’s Mom’s age, no offence, Mom. She has a son in the Academy!” He tossed the PADD to join Janeway’s and grabbed another before he said something he would regret.

This woman was younger, a Lieutenant, also wearing the blue sciences uniform. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, the style emphasizing the spots of her Trill heritage. Tom felt a flicker of interest.

“Jadzia…” he stumbled a little over the unfamiliar name.

“Ahh, the latest host for the Dax symbiont.” Owen’s interest perked up again.

“Do you know her?” asked Miriam. She thought the lieutenant looked attractive and she fitted the penchant Tom seemed to have for dark hair and eyes she’d noticed in her son.

“Not Jadzia, but Curzon Dax was a friend of mine.”

Tom automatically placed Jadzia Dax on the pile with Janeway and Crusher, a trifle regretfully, but beauty and a twinkle in her eye did not outweigh hosting a symbiont who was friends with his father.

The next woman was blonde. A full length photo rather than the standard head shot was used obviously to show off her statuesque proportions.

“Annika Hansen, Irene’s niece,” said Miriam, recognizing the young woman even when viewed upside down. “She’s charming, a little aloof maybe, but always scrupulously polite.”

From those comments, Tom realized his parents did not know he and Annika were acquainted. Actually, he’d tried to hit on her several times, but she’d efficiently repulsed his advances. Their own circles of friends did not coincide. After Tom stopped teasing her, they had eventually developed a friendship that took place outside those invisible boundaries. As their friendship developed, Tom learned something that would preclude a marriage between the two of them. It was something Annika preferred not be made public, and the few that knew, as well as Tom, kept to themselves the fact that Annika liked women. Tom would not condemn either of them to a sexless marriage.

He tossed aside the next few PADDs, making brief comments of rejection or none at all as he pondered the best way to get out of the wedding.

Counselor Troi, another candidate from the Enterprise had joined the growing pile when Tom became aware of his parents’ silence. They looked at one another and his mother laid her hand on her father’s forearm and nodded. Owen’s mouth turned down a little, but he nodded in return, and reached for a second pile of PADDs that had been placed on the floor next to where Owen was sitting.

“Look, maybe you should just invite all of them,” began Tom despondently, thinking maybe he’d better go to Risa with the twins, and then paused as he watched their unspoken communication. 

Miriam spoke first.

“Tommy, I said we want you to be happy, and we do, and I said we would welcome anyone you chose to wed into our family, and we meant it. Maybe…” and she blushed as she continued bravely, “maybe you would rather have a husband.” Having got that out, Miriam continued in a rush, “There’s nothing in the Legacy that says you have to marry a woman. You just have to be married by the time you turn twenty-five.” Both of Tom’s parents were aware he had male lovers as well as female. He had never tried to hide it; it was just not something they ever discussed.

Owen joined in. “I…err…selected some potential husbands for you to look over as well.” He deposited the new pile of PADDS face up on the coffee table.

“Da-a-ad!” Tom practically screeched. “Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Enterprise.”

“Owen!” Miriam remonstrated with her husband. “What were you thinking?”

“Sorry. That shouldn’t have been there,” replied Owen, not sounding sorry in the least.

“Commander William T. Riker, First Officer of the Enterprise.”

“He’s mature, stable, would give the boy some much needed discipline…” Owen’s voice trailed off, as Tom reeled off the next few names.

“Lieutenant Commander Data from the Enterprise, Lieutenant Sean Hawk from the Enterprise.”

“You’d have something in common with him, he’s a pilot,” put in Owen.

“Why are there so many crew from the Enterprise included?” asked Tom suspiciously. “Is the Enterprise going to be back in dock in three months or something?”

“Actually, the position of chief pilot on the Enterprise falls vacant at the next round of crew placements and I thought it would be nice if you were serving on the same starship as your spouse.”

“Dad, I’m not in Starfleet anymore, or had you forgotten. I resigned after Monea.” Tom flushed. The Monean incident still rankled. Tom had disagreed with Starfleet’s involvement, or lack of, in the environmental crisis taking place on Monea. He had joined a protest, which had turned violent and bloody, and ended up resigning his commission.

Owen had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Actually, Son, your resignation was never processed. You’ve been on extended leave for…er…medical reasons. You can take up an appointment at anytime, once you’ve been certified fit.” Owen had been secretly proud of the stance Tom had taken, admiring him for having the courage to go against Starfleet regulations and stick to his principles. He hoped that when Tom matured he would want to return to Starfleet, and had pulled some strings to arrange the current status quo. “Son…Tom…” 

“Don’t say anything right now, Dad.” 

Tom literally did not know what else to say, and blindly picked up another PADD.

Owen was thankful Tom hadn’t stormed out of the room at that revelation. 

Miriam attempted to defuse the situation and pushed a different PADD towards her son.

“Look, Tommy. He’s pretty cute – tall dark and handsome, just how you like them.”

Tom looked startled at that remark from his mother and dropped the PADD displaying Lieutenant Worf to pick up the one his mother selected. 

“Mom, he’s a Vulcan!”

“So? I thought I had explained to you we are not against mixed marriages, Tommy.”

“Pon Farr is not such a big secret any more. I won’t be condemned to having sex once every seven years for the rest of my life!”

“Pon Farr is just the urge to mate, dear. Of course Vulcans have…” and Miriam cleared her throat delicately, “…intimate relations…the rest of the time.”

“Well, I’m not going to have six years and eleven months of ordinary ‘intimate relations’ just to wait for one week of red hot…”

“Thomas! Not in front of your mother,” interjected Owen hurriedly.

“No Vulcans.” Tom’s tone was final.

“Well, w-w-what about this one then? R-r-reginald Barclay,” suggested Miriam, unaccountably stuttering for a moment. “He has a kind face.”

“Ah, Barclay. A superb holoprogrammer. He’s even created a program depicting a new model starship. Voyager, she’s called. He’s filled it with staff, given it a mission. It’s incredibly lifelike. We’re thinking of using it in one of the new training simulations.”

Miriam looked at Tom. He was lying back on the sofa, the picture of moroseness. 

”Tommy, dear, we haven’t mentioned any of your special friends. What about Harry?”

Miriam liked Harry. He was one of the few friends Tom had actually brought home. Harry was a Starfleet graduate, who was spending time working in the ground-based Starfleet Engineering division before accepting a post on a starship.

Tom thought about Harry. Harry was his best friend. The two had enjoyed a passionate and exclusive affair for several months early in their relationship. Now, they still slept together occasionally, or joined each other in threesomes, foursomes or moresomes as they desired. While Tom knew Harry would be happy to be married to him, and would have no problems remaining faithful, he knew in his heart he needed more from a relationship that Harry could provide. While he had never got around to putting in words exactly what it was he needed, Tom knew instinctively Harry was not the one to provide it. He examined the fond expression on his mother’s face. He knew she was not above playing matchmaker, and Harry would be all too willing to oblige. He thought fast.

“Didn’t I ever tell you, Mom? Harry’s going to be married to a girl back home. Mr and Mrs Kim arranged his marriage when he was, like, in the cradle. Her name is Libby. She’s not twenty-one yet, so they are still waiting. He’s asked me to be his best man, when it finally happens,” said Tom, fabricating Harry’s future to his own satisfaction.

Suddenly tired of the subject, and feeling dirty and hungry, Tom looked up at the grandfather clock and faked a shock as he registered the time.

“Is that the time? I have to go and get ready. I’m meeting someone in a little while,” he improvised rapidly.

“Who are you meeting, Tommy?” asked Miriam archly, her mind still on potential partners for her son. “Is it someone we know?”

“No. No, you don’t know them. I’ve just met them, him. I have to change. Look, invite whoever you like, just no old people and no Vulcans. We’ll discuss it some more later, okay?”

Tom got to his feet and hurried out of the living room. He had to get a copy of the Paris Legacy and go over it with a fine toothcomb. There had to be some way for him to get out of this marriage.


	2. A Possible Solution

Tom hesitated at the stairs and headed for the kitchen instead of his bedroom. He pulled out one of the stools and turned it so its back was to the bench. Straddling it, he rested an elbow on the cool green marble. With his chin on his palm, his fingertips pulled at his bottom lip. He sighed deeply and sank more heavily onto his hand. Rose poured him a mug of coffee, automatically adding two sugars. She put a couple of biscuits onto a plate and pushed it within easy reach, then returned to her task of preparing fruit for a cake she was making. She looked at Tom from beneath lowered eyelashes. He hadn’t even started on his coffee so she added a handful of sultanas to his plate.

Finally, Tom wrapped his hands around the mug. He inhaled the aromatic steam before blowing softly over the surface of the coffee. His lower lip trembled a little and he pressed the mug firmly against it. One sip showed him the coffee would not burn his mouth, and he drank deeply, almost emptying the mug. He sighed again as he placed it carefully back on to the bench top. Rose refilled it. This time she pushed the bowl of cake mix to one side and poured herself a coffee. She stood, slowly sipping her drink, waiting. She finally decided to say something to encourage Tom to open up, when he picked up a single sultana. He looked at it blankly before biting it delicately in half. He stared at the piece remaining between his thumb and forefinger for a moment before tossing it into his mouth. He ate several more sultanas in the same fashion and then asked bluntly, “What do you know about the Paris Legacy, Rose?”

“The eldest male Paris heir must marry by twenty-five. Oh, Tom.”

“Why? Why twenty-five? Why not thirty? Why get married at all?”

“I don’t know. It’s the way it’s always been in this family. I was here for your parents’ wedding. My aunt was housekeeper when your grandparents got married.”

“There must be some way out of it. I don’t want to get married. I like my life the way it is. I have FUN, you know. I can take off on a piloting job if I want, hang out with my friends, do stuff…I can’t imagine being tied down to one person for the rest of my life. I’m too young!” Tom’s voice rose as he became increasingly agitated. “Did you know about the ball for my birthday? I’m supposed to choose a prospective spouse from a…a…a cattle parade. Did you see whom my father put on the list? It’s like a bloody fairy tale. I suppose Cinderella will be there, in a Starfleet dress uniform with a magical spaceshuttle. I’ll fall in love and we’ll get married on the spot. I’ll get a promotion and a commission and we’ll fly off into the delta quadrant and live happily ever after. I think not.” He drained the rest of his coffee, snatched up the biscuits, and pushed himself off the stool. “There’s got to be a way out of this and I’m going to find it or my name is not Thomas Eugene Paris. Hell, maybe I’ll change my name to start with.” 

Tom stormed off to his room. He stripped off his clothes and stood under the shower. Gradually the heat worked its magic and he felt a little calmer. He needed a plan. Unlike some of his other plans, which had a habit of backfiring as he didn’t think them through properly, he decided to approach this in much the way he wrote flight simulations and holoprograms. He decided against rounding up his friends and asking them for suggestions. Instinctively, he felt this would be something best kept to himself. His friends would find out soon enough when they received their invitations to his birthday ball. Traditionally issued one month before the event, he was left with eight weeks, or preferably less, to find an answer.

First, he had to find out the details of the Paris Legacy. He was still annoyed at some of his father’s choices for his spouse. Every time he thought of Kathryn Janeway or Jean-Luc Picard, he ground his teeth. His mother would be more interested in finding out who was the mythical person he said he’d met. He needed to talk to someone other than his parents. The name of the law firm used by his family popped into his head. Being Tom, he forgot his resolutions and acted at once. He turned off the shower and reached for his towel. 

Back in his bedroom, he found some clean clothes. He turned on the computer and connected with the secretary at Biddle, O’Brien and Henschell. Taking advantage of the Paris name, he secured an appointment for later that afternoon with Mr Biddle himself. Feeling a little better, he surveyed the war zone he called his bedroom and made an effort to tidy up. Rose stuck to the rules she set when he was a child. If he placed his laundry in the hamper, she would attend to it. If his floor were clear, she would clean it. Otherwise, he was responsible for his room himself. 

It would be easier to work on his plan anywhere but under his parents’ roof, so he decided to move out completely for the duration. There were many nights he didn’t spend at home as it was. He made it a practice never to bring his sexual partners home. Then he either stayed in town with Harry, one of his other friends, or utilized a small room he rented over one of his favorite bars when he needed somewhere. 

Still on the computer, Tom checked the employment section and found a short, return trip piloting job. He contacted the company and within minutes found himself hired and expected at the transport station at 0700 hours the following morning. It would take him away from Earth for two days, but he could let everyone know he would be gone longer. He changed into one of the few remaining clean outfits left in his wardrobe. After examining his jaw once more in the bathroom mirror, Tom decided to keep the beard for a while longer. He quite liked the more mature, even rakish look it gave him. He lugged the over-full hamper down to the laundry, and stopped by the kitchen to sweet-talk Rose into attending to it urgently so he could pack some of the clothes that evening, telling her he had taken a job. She remarked she thought it was a good idea he get away for a while and promised to see what she could do.

At 1500 hours, Tom was waiting in the reception area of Biddle, O’Brien and Henschell. A tall dark-haired man came into the room and held out his hand.

“Mr Paris, I’m Randolph Biddle. Come on through to my office.”

Tom shook hands and followed Mr Biddle down a short corridor. Mr Biddle indicated a pair of comfortable-looking chairs and took his own seat behind the large desk that dominated the room. 

“How may I help you, Mr Paris?”

“What do you know about the Paris Legacy?” asked Tom, coming straight to the point.

“Ah, the Paris Legacy.” Mr Biddle called up some data and the men settled down to an in-depth discussion.

Over an hour later, Tom left with a number of facts in his possession. As the eldest Paris male, he was definitely required to be married by midnight of his twenty-fifth birthday. It seemed Randolph couldn't tell him the consequences of not being married. That was up to the father, who explained to his son the actual details of the legacy on his birthday, or as close to the actual date as possible. Tom had expounded some wild theories ranging from lycanthropy or vampirism, succumbing to an historical curse and falling victim to a fatal genetic disease cured by having sex with the one person on a regular basis all the way down to the more mundane prospect of losing the family home, lands and fortune. Unfortunately, Randolph could neither confirm nor deny any of them.

One thing he did confirm was none of the previous twenty-five generations of the Paris family had every defaulted on the Legacy. Tom queried Randolph with interest as to what happened with the continuation of the Paris line in the case of the chosen spouse being male. Records showed that on the three previous occasions when the Paris heir married a male they’d had families of their own by various means, including surrogacy with a female family member carrying the child. Each generation had produced at least one male child, all of whom survived long enough to beget a son of his own.

The question of faithfulness was addressed. Once again, Randolph was unable to advise Tom of the consequences of cheating by either spouse. It seemed it simply did not happen. Several marriages had apparently been arranged, but a clause was written into the public part of the legacy that both parties had to be agreeable to the proposition and all it entailed. They didn't actually have to love each other; although it had been recorded they usually found a deep and abiding love that developed over the years.

“Of course, you know your own parents are a case in point for that scenario,” said Randolph. Tom nodded. While he was not fully au fait with all of the details, his mother had made no secret she had agreed to wed Owen without loving him. She wanted the wealth and prestige of the Paris name more than she wanted to defy her parents and elope with a boy from the wrong side of the tracks who claimed he loved her. Ten years and three children later, Owen and Miriam found they had fallen in love and were looking forward to celebrating thirty-five years of marriage in a couple of years time. 

A couple of points sparked a germ of an idea. The actually wedding ceremony did not have to be of a particular kind. As long as it was legal, it could take the form of a religious service, a civil service, a ceremony native to any particular known race, or even an elopement. It was up to the couple in question. Proof in the form of a legal marriage certificate of some description needed to be provided, but none of the members of the Paris family had to witness the exchanging of the vows. In addition, no immediate proof of consummation had to be supplied, unless an alien ceremony required the consummation be witnessed as part of its legality. Tom was relieved to find that particular requirement was not a necessity for the Legacy. He determined to choose his future wedding ceremony very carefully. There was a bunch of stuff about infertility that needed to be taken into account if no male offspring were produced in the first twenty years of the marriage, but he paid that scant attention. There was also nothing in the legacy details that stated the couple had to live under the one roof. He supposed it was just assumed the newlyweds would cohabitate.

Tom thanked Randolph for his time and assistance, and headed for Francine’s, the popular bar where in several hours his friends would begin to gather for the evening. It would be quiet at this time in the afternoon. A few drinks and some pool practice would allow Tom to think about the next few months. He could also put around the story that he would be away for at least a week. Nobody would think anything of it. Tom applied for casual piloting jobs on a semi-regular basis so he was not fully dependent upon his allowance. He also worked intermittently as a freelance holoprogrammer under another name. A number of brothels ran some of his more quirky and innovative programs, while his war games were popular in the arcades frequented by the young people of the district.

With a lager in one hand and a pool cue in the other, Tom surveyed the placement of the balls on the smooth green baize. For twenty minutes he had concentrated solely on his game. Now he permitted the earlier glimmerings of a solution the ‘Legacy problem’ to come to the fore. He could fake a marriage. He could get ‘married’ off world, produce a certificate to keep the folks happy, and hire an escort for the times he needed to show off said spouse, such as at his birthday, and the rest of the time he would be free. Of course, it would necessitate moving completely out of the Paris household, and living at least out of the immediate area, but he would be free to pursue his life as he wished. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he could make it work. He placed his empty glass aside and cleared the table.

He couldn’t stop a small smile curving his lips as he racked the balls up again. The crack of the cue ball against the coloreds as he broke cleanly was immensely satisfying. Three balls sank into pockets off the break and he set about clearing the table once more. A husband would be the most practical, he decided. It would stop his mother asking about grandchildren for a long time and he figured she would be less inclined to try to integrate a male into her life. His mother and sisters met regularly for shopping expeditions, coffee mornings and the like. She would expect a daughter-in-law to join in. His sisters’ husbands had little to do with his father on a social basis, other than attending the usual family gatherings at birthdays and Christmas. As for socializing with his friends, work could keep his husband out of the limelight. Tom pictured a focused man, who put in long hours at a high-powered job of some description. A strong, silent type; yes, that would work. Then all he needed to do occasionally was hire some sexy hunk of a man. The two of them could make out as if they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and Tom could use that as excuse to leave all of the boring family dos early, and maybe get some extra sexual activity in as a bonus. So far, this was shaping up to be a win-win proposition.

The late afternoon quiet of Francine’s ended as a group of noisy people came through the door. It was the crowd from Maquis Research and Development. B’Elanna and several of her engineering cronies, along with Ayala, who headed up their security team, and Mariah Henley from the office entered. From the gist of the conversation, Tom gathered they were planning to celebrate as they had made some kind of progress with their latest shuttle design, dubbed ‘The Mosquito’. 

Tom was pleased. He was in the mood to celebrate as well. He eyed Ayala with interest. The man was tall, dark and handsome as well as being the strong, silent type. It was almost a shame he was known amongst Tom’s friends. He would have been perfect. He had almost made up his mind to approach Ayala and ask him to join him, when Mariah took a seat on Ayala’s knee and began whispering in his ear. Tom shrugged - he would be happy to spend the night with both of them. Before he could do anything about the invitation Tabor came over and slapped Tom on the back.

“You look cheerful, Paris.”

“Yeah. I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

“Any special reason?” asked Tabor.

“Nope. Just happy.” Tom kept to his resolution not to give anything away. He grinned in response to Tabor’s smile and thought that maybe he wouldn’t need to approach Ayala and Mariah after all.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Thanks. Another ale will be fine,” he replied, indicating his empty glass. He passed his cue over to Dalby and went to sit with the others at the large table.

Tabor took the seat next to Tom and they joined in the talk. A new restaurant had opened up and plans were made to check it out several nights hence. Tom had to decline with regret. A chorus of disappointment went round the table. Tom raised his hand.

“Sorry, folks. I’ve got a piloting job. I’ll be back in a week.” 

Nods of general acceptance all round - they were used to Tom taking off on various jobs. Step one accomplished. Tom ran his hand along Tabor’s thigh and squeezed. He smiled when he felt Tabor’s thigh press back against his own.

Later that evening, Tom pressed the chime for Tabor’s apartment. He’d been home and packed a bag so he could leave for the transport station in the morning directly from Tabor’s. He tossed the bag in the entrance hall and paused to leave his shoes by the door before following Tabor directly into the bedroom. He examined the young man’s build with new eyes, mentally adding several inches to his height, widening his shoulders, and filling out his buttocks just a little to make two decent handfuls and balance out the increased muscle bulk of bigger thighs.

Tabor pushed open the bedroom door and entered the room. Taking two steps inside, he turned to Tom to catch him staring as though he’d never seen Tabor before.

“Tom? Earth to Tom!” Tabor waved his hand in front of Tom’s face.

Tom came back to the present and shook his head to clear it. He smiled and drew Tabor into his arms. Tabor’s lips were warm and dry. His breath smelled fresh and minty, as did Tom’s. Both men had taken advantage of their time apart to attend to the social niceties. The tip of Tom’s tongue poked out from between his lips and flickered over Tabor’s mouth, teasing for entry. Tabor obliged and their kiss deepened. Tom stroked his tongue over Tabor’s teeth, enjoying the contrast between hard, smooth enamel, the soft giving tissues of the inside of his mouth and the firmer tongue that pressed against his own. He drew back and planted a series of tiny close-lipped nibbles from chin to jaw, and then bit gently on Tabor’s earlobe. He felt Tabor grasp his buttocks, pulling him closer and he humped his pelvis, slowly and rhythmically, enjoying the friction. Tom pointed his tongue and delicately licked along the length of Tabor’s nose from the tip to the ridges. As his tongue wet the ridges again and again, he felt Tabor tremble and melt into his arms. 

He slid his hands beneath the pristine white t-shirt, and rubbed the smooth skin, tracing the wiry muscles before drawing it over Tabor’s head, tousling the neatly combed waves. His own shirt joined Tabor’s on the floor and now he shuddered as Tabor nuzzled through the tangle of hair covering his chest to find a nipple and suck it. Tom’s head fell back as he let himself be lost in the sensation that made his toes curl. He felt Tabor unfasten his jeans, and bent forward to look down into the black eyes that seemed to have no depth as they stared back up into his. He rested his hands over Tabor’s and together they drew down Tom’s jeans, taking his underwear off at the same time. Tom lay back on the bed and watched Tabor remove his own pants, and then opened his arms, catching him as he flung himself at Tom. The men grappled and wrestled for a minute, rolling from side to side, and then the roughhousing slowed as they lay chest to chest with their legs entangled, kissing one another passionately.

~

The alarm sounded early and Tom murmured an apology as he rose. He pulled the covers back over Tabor’s shoulders and placed a quick kiss on the nape of his neck before hurrying into the bathroom. He emerged less than ten minutes later with a borrowed towel slung around his hips. He retrieved some clean clothes from his bag in the hallway and returned to the bathroom to dress. He scanned the bedroom and collected the things he’d worn last night, bundling them up ready to stuff down the side of his bag. Out in the kitchen, he made himself a mug of coffee, which he gulped down, burning his mouth in the process. He stuck his head back in through the bedroom door, intending to say goodbye, but Tabor had fallen back to sleep, so Tom left without disturbing him any further.


	3. 'I Can Make Me a Man'

Back from his piloting job, Tom checked in to a well-appointed suite in a hotel several miles away from his usual hangouts. He’d had plenty of time to think while he’d been away and had abandoned his original idea of simply hiring an escort when he needed his husband. He’d realized there were several problems inherent with that scheme. The basic issues included the availability of the same escort each time he would be needed, and the fact that the escort would still be performing his regular job during the times Tom did not require his services. It would not be appropriate for the new Mr. Paris to be seen out on the town parading a variety of partners upon his arm. A more complicated issue was trust. Could Tom be sure he could trust his hired husband? Blackmail was an ugly business. The logical solution was to provide himself with a completely fictitious husband, with a job that made him simply unavailable.

Tom sat at the computer and thoughtfully cracked his knuckles. Creating a believable identity for his ‘husband’ should be easier than writing a holoprogram. He stared at the blank screen as he considered where to begin. A memory from a third year class at the Academy dealing with an introduction to undercover work came to mind. He dredged up what he could remember of the class entitled ‘Three Steps to Telling Lies’.

Firstly, he had to create a well-thought-out story. Secondly he had to set up the necessary props to make the story appear true. Finally he had to perform the part so well that those listening wanted to believe the story to be true.

Tom knew he had to be completely familiar with the background supporting the story, so his spouse would best be human. It would save getting caught out by an unfamiliar cultural more. It followed that the career he knew most about was Starfleet. Someone with a military background would make dear old dad happy. Not ’Fleet itself though, as it would be too easy for his father to trace a fake Starfleet career. Therefore he should come from one of the frontier planets and have trained elsewhere. High enough in rank, but not too high – a Commander would be ideal. Not in active space service, Tom thought. While it would be handy to have him away in deep space on a five year mission, it put him in one location and thus too easy to find, or not. Lecturing – now that was a possibility. It was entirely plausible for a lecturer to travel to various symposiums. Tom could also use that as an excuse to go off world to meet him at regular intervals. 

Ideas filling his mind at lightning speed, Tom entered various details into a program as he thought of them. He should be good at piloting, but just not quite as good as Tom. A competent engineer, but not an expert. Something he could lecture it that was not in his father’s field, but that Tom knew enough about to sprinkle details in ‘communications home’ that he could share with his folks – ‘Strategy and Tactics’ was a possibility, or maybe something not ’Fleet related at all. Perhaps he had a special interest that he had placed his military career on hold to pursue. 

Tom gradually built up the history and personality traits of his husband. Some eleven years older than Tom, the commander been born on one of the low-tech planets, settled by ex-Earth humans. After a search, Tom selected Dorvan V, a planet that had little contact with Earth and was home to descendents of a group of Native Americans. Father - dead, thought Tom, removing his prospective father-in-law from the picture with a touch of his finger, but left his husband with a mother and a couple of brothers so his own mother would not worry about her potentially orphaned son-in-law. He filled in details of schooling and qualifications. As for personal stuff, the man loved dogs and similar sports to Tom – skiing, swimming, and canoeing. 

Of course, they had to be compatible, so Tom added bisexuality, with several sexual kinks that dovetailed his own to the profile, and then made the man habitually serially monogamous with a preference for conducting his relationships privately. While Tom was known for a possessing a rather wild streak of exhibitionism, it was best his husband did not. Not wanting the man to appear too boring, he added a couple more fetishes that worked fine with just one partner. After all, nobody would believe Tom would settle for a quiet, conventional spouse.

Leaving the background details for a bit, Tom decided to work on the props. Number one was finding some suitable images he could manipulate so he could display a picture or two of his beloved. He stood and stretched, and wandered over to the replicator. He ordered a bowl of vegetable soup and roll, as well as coffee and a glass of water. He took them back to the desk and began to search for pictures of tall, dark and handsome hunks.

‘Susie’s Super Studs’ was an excellent site, thought Tom as he perused a good selection of images. One man in particular caught his eye. ‘Chayton’ was a dark haired, dark eyed man, somewhat older than most of the other men he had been checking out. His file contained quite a range of shots. Straight black hair flowed past broad shoulders. Tom considered the lips to die for and wondered if they were as soft in real life as their picture hinted. The curve of a fine ass was enticingly displayed, as Chayton lay sprawled out on a mound of pure white sheets, backed with plump pillows. The contrast of white linens with bronze skin was sheer artistry in Tom’s opinion. Another image placed him standing against a background of forest green crinkly material. His body shone golden in a colored spotlight. His chest gleamed with a light coating of oil and one strong-looking hand caressed a nipple. The sultry expression in his eyes spoke volumes. 

Tom enlarged a saucy shot in which Chayton demonstrated his horse riding skills - naked. The camera had caught him looking back over his shoulder. It was one of the few clear pictures of the man’s back and Tom honed in on the tattoo on his shoulder blade. It was a detailed drawing of a bird in flight. A good omen, Tom thought. He had an affinity with things that flew.

One of the least provocative poses captured Tom’s interest. Chayton, dressed in a black t-shirt and faded jeans sat on the ground, one leg bent up, the other on the ground. His arms were around a large dog. The dog’s tongue hung out of its open mouth, giving the impression of a doggy grin. The two were obviously great friends and one knew that at that moment, man and dog were supremely content.

Tom downloaded a selection of images and set to work. The long hair had to go. Actually, a shorter style suited the man, showing off his broad forehead and nicely shaped head. Tom was glad Chayton did not have one of those billiard ball heads balanced on a spindly neck dominated by an out-of-proportion Adam’s apple. One could focus instead on the fascinating dimples – Tom had added a second – without distraction, and the brown eyes looked clearer. The body was practically perfect the way it was. Smooth bronze skin matched the heritage Tom had already selected. The pectoral muscles were particularly well defined and Tom felt himself drooling as he surveyed the tasty-looking nipples surrounded by neat areolas that were more oval than round. He pictured himself chewing on them and licked his lips. 

The tattoo stayed. Tom was happy to acknowledge he had a thing for tattoos. Not a bodyful, just a select few in places that invited loving attention, such as the soft skin where hip met groin, the small of the back, a neat ankle, or as in Chayton’s case, a smooth shoulder blade. He would however keep the tattoo from the public shots; they would be just for himself as husband.

One shot of Chayton, standing with his thumb hooked into a pair of undone blue jeans that just covered a tantalizing bulge was particularly mouth-watering. Tom checked out the shoulders and the biceps of the muscular arms, before dipping back for another look at the groin. His thoughts triggered a memory from a favorite movie and he hummed a few bars, before singing a couple of lines and paraphrasing some words to fit.

_“A deltoid and a bicep,_  
A hot groin and a tricep,   
Makes me, oooh, shake,   
Makes me want to take Charles Atlas by the ...ha-ha-hand.   
In just seven days, (no, hours), ... oh, baby ... I can make me a man. 

_I don't want no dissention, just dynamic tension._  
I'm a muscle fan.   
In just seven hours, I can make me a man.   
Dig it if you can   
In just seven hours, I can make me a man.” 

He ran his fingertip over the screen, tracing the muscles as he repeated the verse and then blew a kiss at his man to finish.

Tom ceased warbling as he selected two images, including the one with the dog, which would be suitable to display in his home to show parents and friends, and fixed up the hair and dimples. He found a suitable match for Chayton’s body type and skin color in a commander from the army on one of Doravn’s neighboring planets. He personally did not recognize the uniform. With a little tweaking, it became Commander Chayton, in two poses again, one formal and the second more informal. He couldn’t resist adding to the data rod his personal favorites, planning to keep them in his bedroom. He would get hard copies printed and framed tomorrow.

In the mean time, Tom thought of something else. He couldn’t refer to his husband as ‘Chayton’ in case the man in the images had used his own name, which would create the tiniest chance of Tom’s plan being exposed. Besides, he wasn’t especially keen on the name. He tried a selection of names he found on a baby naming site, tilting his head as he stared at the screen, trying to match a name with the image. Akando, Dakota, Lakota, Cheveyo…none rang with the cadence he subconsciously sought. He tried imagining himself calling out any of those names in the throes of passion, but none quite cut it. He played around with various combinations of syllables and eventually settled on ‘Chakotay’. He liked the vibrations as it tripped off his tongue and there were several diminutives – Cha, Chak, Kotay or Tay – he could use. He did a quick search of the name and breathed a sigh of relief when it failed to show Chakotay as the name of a notorious killer, terrorist or wanted con artist. He replicated another coffee and set about the painstaking task of inserting his Chakotay’s identity into the web.

Aware of incipient cramps developing in his back, Tom checked the time. He’d been working for many hours. He debated whether to go out and spend some time drinking and dancing in one of the local nightclubs and maybe pick up some company, but the bathroom contained a large bath as well as a shower and he decided that tonight a long hot soak won easily over going out.

He set the bath to fill, adding some salts with relaxing properties from the selection the hotel provided. Feeling peckish rather than outright hungry, he replicated a sandwich. He considered taking a bottle of champagne into the bath, but it was really too early to celebrate. There were a number of background details still to attend to and he needed to practice his story, as the third step to creating a convincing lie reminded him. He took a single scotch with him instead. 

Tom balanced the scotch on a convenient ledge and quickly stripped off. He turned from side to side examining his body in the full-length mirror. He was not happy he realized his lower belly curved outwards more than just the slightest. He thumped it, noting it was not as firm as it should be. He pinched his hips and frowned at the two small handfuls of fat spreading between his fingers. He tried to remember the last time he’d exercised regularly and couldn’t, unless he counted having sex. He’d been too busy, hanging out, getting drunk and having fun. He spoke to his reflection.

“You have to do something about this, Tommy boy. How will you convince anyone that a ‘super stud’ like Chakotay is interested in a body like this?”

The beard would have to go as well, he decided regretfully. It was kind of patchy. He needed to get some pictures of himself that Chakotay would like, and that he could work into manipulated shots containing the two of them. He didn’t want to appear as a ruffian for posterity. He considered his hairy chest and the patch of hair on his lower back. No, damn it. While Tom had a thing for smooth skin, Chakotay could just have a hair fetish. There was no way he was going to start with depilatories, and permanent removal of that much hair would be time-consuming and probably painful. This was how he was. 

Giving up on further self-introspection, Tom lowered himself into the bath and relaxed. He sipped the scotch, enjoying the slow burn that traveled his throat to his stomach. He put the glass aside and took up a large sponge. He applied some gel and lathered up one arm. Using a circular massaging action as a focus, he organized his thoughts and planned the following day’s activities. When his limbs were sufficiently clean and relaxed, he swapped the sponge for a loofah and reached around his back. A more vigorous action helped work some of the stiffness from his muscles and after a good five minutes, he dropped the loofah and leaned back against the molded surface. He closed his eyes and Chakotay’s features coalesced in his imagination.

You sure are one sexy man, thought Tom and stroked his chest and flanks, imagining large brown hands in place of his own. He brought one hand up to his face, and lightly ran his fingers over an eyebrow and down his cheek and jaw. Keeping his eyes closed and his touch light, he traced his lips, first the top and then the bottom. His tongue came out and wet the tip of his index finger. He traced his lips again and then sucked his finger into his mouth. He curled his tongue around the finger, then slid it in and out a few times. When he felt a healthy coating of saliva, he withdrew it to circle first one nipple, and after a further quick suck on his finger, the other.

Soon the light caress was not enough and he rolled his nipples between his fingers, pinching and pulling at them, with his mind focused on his newly created, soon-to-be husband. One hand stole lower, where his fingers tangled briefly in his pubic hair before squeezing his rapidly firming shaft. Tom settled into a rhythm, stroking, rubbing, teasing himself, and then his toes curled as he felt his impending orgasm build. His breaths were rapid and harsh as they pushed out between his clenched teeth, echoing oddly in the tiled room. A burst of warmth seemed to explode inside his belly, spreading its effects over his whole body, and Tom flushed as he groaned his release.

After a quick shower, Tom took himself to bed. He mentally ran over his plans again for the following day and instructed the computer to begin a verbal account of the history of Dorvan V. After a few minutes he found the female voice irritating. A brisk order changed it to a soothing male voice that he could pretend was Chakotay’s and eventually he drifted off to sleep.

~

Next morning saw Tom seated at the computer again. He checked out the local real estate and made an appointment to look over an apartment that afternoon. Realizing it would take a significant amount of credits to lease the apartment for a year, furnish it and stock it with clothing and accoutrements for his husband as well as himself that was well in excess of his allowance, he made a second call.

“Good morning, this is Nova Holoprgrams. My name is Ricky. Oh, Gene, it’s you.” The young woman’s face lit up.

“Ricky, you’re looking gorgeous as always.” Tom greeted the receptionist, who knew him as Gene Barrett. “I have a new program that’s ready to trial. When can I get a test suite?”

Ricky consulted her database. “You’re in luck. One of the researchers cancelled his block tomorrow afternoon. Would two hours be sufficient? You’ll have to wait until next week if not.”

“Two hours tomorrow will be fine. I’ll take it.”

“Two o’clock then. It’s all yours. Any hints?”

“Just for you, as you know about all of my programs. It’s another space saga.”

“Any more sexy alien slaves to be freed?”

“Nope. It’s a mutiny.”

“Ooh, like on the Bounty?” Nova provided a range of historical programs for use in schools and by various historical societies.

“Kind of, except it’s set on a space ship. I’ve called it ‘Insurrection: Alpha’. Listen, Ricky, I’ve heard on the grapevine that Barclay has finished another program Starfleet is interested in using. Get Gervaise to check it out. It’s called ‘Voyager’ or something similar. With a few alterations, ‘Insurrection: Alpha’ could be run as a sub- program. Get him to pitch it to their people. If they are interested, we can change the name of either the public or the Academy program. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure there will be enough differences between the two so as not to upset the legal department.”

“It should be okay, Gene. Once they know it’s a Barrett, it’s practically a sale. Say, do you want to go out after you finish testing tomorrow? I finish at four.”

Tom opened his mouth to accept with pleasure. Ricky was always fun to be with, and then he remembered he had to convince people he’d fallen in love and was going to get married. It didn’t matter that Ricky had no idea he was Tom Paris and heir to the Paris Legacy. He had to practice the lie often enough so it became second nature.

“Sorry, Ricky. I’ve got to get back straight away. I…ah…I’ve met someone, and…er….”

He definitely needed practice, Tom decided, as he stammered his way through his explanation. 

“It must be a pretty special someone, Gene. I’ve never seen you that flustered before,” said Ricky with a giggle. “That’s okay. I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow anyway.” She closed the communication and the Nova Holoprograms logo replaced her laughing features for a few seconds before the screen went blank.

Later that afternoon Tom examined a sixth floor apartment that overlooked a large park. It contained two bedrooms, a large, opulent bathroom with a range of fittings that sold Tom on the place before he even examined the kitchen. The living room was spacious and opened out on to a balcony. It was clean, quiet, and not located in a part of town he frequented. An added bonus was the fact it was semi-furnished. The bed was long enough to easily accommodate his length and wide enough for two people to sprawl out on. The bedstead was an intricately carved frame of light oak and had matching side tables. The second bedroom was empty, but could be fitted up as a study. The dining table was in the same oak as the bedstead and the sofa and chairs were also of a size to fit Tom. He signed the lease and organized to move in the following week.

Back at the hotel, Tom scrolled through the various university lecture tours, and then matched up another piloting job to a place that was hosting two conferences. He breathed a sigh of relief when he got the job. He would get together with his friends before leaving and let them know he’d met someone this time. He would also have to remember to drop a hint to Rose and his mother. He’d come back from this new trip with the definite symptoms of being in love, and then elope on the one after. Voila!


	4. Breaking the News

Tom nervously paced the length of his balcony. He didn’t want to sit down and risk creasing the fancy suit he wore. This was it. After a month of preparation, he was ready to fully perpetrate the biggest lie he’d told in his life. He was about to break the news to his parents that he’d married Chakotay. He admitted to himself he hadn’t expected to feel this way. It had been so easy during the previous weeks - a snippet of information here, a little story there. The more he lived it, the more realistic it had become until he almost believed he had actually married the man he’d lovingly created.

He memorized the details of the private civil ceremony meticulously down to the color and style of underwear he’d mentally clothed them in. While he knew to give out the barest minimum answers to any questions, his friends had been known to ask some curly ones and he wanted to be prepared for any eventuality.

This month had been one of the busiest times of his life, and he’d surprised himself how much he’d enjoyed it. He’d moved completely out of home and into the apartment over two weeks ago, making sure his mother and Rose knew he’d met someone special. His mother, noting the neat, shorter hairstyle, clean clothes, how happy and focused he’d become and tallying the number of regular piloting jobs he was now taking, smiled quietly to herself and hopefully added an engagement cake to the list of things needed for Tom’s birthday celebration. She could not recall Tom ever having been as taken with anyone as he was with Chakotay. On hearing Chakotay was a commander, Owen was also pleased.

His friends noticed the changes too, and teased him unmercifully. Tom bore it good-naturedly and took the opportunity to give out such details about the man he’d met as needed. A week ago, a dozen of them crowed into the apartment for a housewarming celebration. The stage was set and Tom kept an eye on the girls, knowing they would take the earliest opportunity to spy out the landscape. Jenny and Megan swooned theatrically as they picked up the framed pictures of Chakotay that Tom had displayed in the living room and demanded to know where he was, and how soon they could meet him. Tom admonished them with a sternly shaken finger, making it categorically clear he was off-limits.

The bedroom and bathroom were carefully arranged. In keeping with the habits of a man who was spending most of his time away from Earth, Tom had placed only a few changes of clothes in Chakotay’s side of the wardrobe. He’d remembered to remove all of store security tags and had even run each item through the ‘fresher once. The bathroom held shaving gear and toiletries for two, but Tom’s was well used and it was patently obvious the other set had been used only once or twice. The cupboard was stocked with the usual items one would expect to find in the bathroom of two men, along with a regenerator and some hangover cures. If anyone snooped in the bedside tables, they would find a variety of oils and lotions (some opened), several tubes of lube and lengths of ordinary silk and cord as well as Tom’s collection of more esoteric toys. The piece de resistance, in Tom’s opinion, was hanging on the wall. He’d enlarged and framed the picture of Chakotay sprawled out on the white sheets, and had a matching pose of himself taken on black sheets. 

The party went well, with everyone leaving convinced Tom had fallen hard for the good-looking man whose dark features contrasted so splendidly with his own fairness. Word would soon get around to those who were not able to be present. Harry tried hard to wheedle some extra details from his friend, but had to make do with Tom’s innuendo-laced comments that gave little away other than the fact he and Chakotay were extremely sexually satisfied, but they were finding it hard to be apart for so long, and that Tom was thinking about doing something to rectify the situation. Harry didn’t let it slip that some of his questions were on Miriam’s behalf. She had contacted Harry for his assistance in making up the guest list for Tom’s birthday ball. She did not want to leave any of his friends out, and Tom was proving elusive, always off on this piloting job or that. Harry was a willing co-conspirator and passed on any information he thought Miriam would find useful.

Tom did take on a couple of carefully chosen piloting jobs, in between setting up his home and establishing his new fitness routine. He discovered the park was a good place to run, and he now went out morning and evening whenever he was based at the apartment. He also found a local gym and joined a martial arts class. Combined with a decrease in the amount of alcohol he usually consumed by virtue of the fact he was spending more time working and less time carousing, the extra pounds melted off, much to his satisfaction. An unexpected bonus was a sudden rush of inspiration for several more holoprograms, all of which were contracted in advance to Nova Holoprograms as soon as they were completed.

Ruminations over for the moment, Tom went back inside. He picked up the framed picture of Chakotay hugging the dog and took it into the bedroom. He placed it on the bed for a moment, and went to the wardrobe where he rummaged amongst his clothes. His fingers closed around a small square box and he grasped it eagerly. Back in the bedroom, he set the photograph up on his bedside table, and knelt carefully in front of it.

“Chakotay, you know I never dreamed this would be how this event would take place in my life. Hell, I never pictured it happening at all, really, or if I did, it was just some nebulous picture of a simple service shared with my family and friends, but here we are.” 

Tom opened the dark blue box. Inside nestled two plain gold rings. He took out the smaller one and with his eyes fixed steadily on Chakotay’s image, he slid the ring onto his finger.

“Hey, man. We’re married now. Well, kind of. You are my savior, you know, from a future with Janeway. I’m sure my dad would have found some way to inveigle me into marrying her. He really likes her. But I’m safe now, thanks to you.”

He got to his feet and returned the other ring to its hiding place. He dusted down his knees and returned Chakotay’s picture to its place in the living room. He collected an overnight bag and packed in it a small dispatch case holding his faked marriage certificate and actual records of his business transactions, and some clothes to change into for the evening he’d organized for his friends where he would break the news to them also, and left to visit his parents.

~

It was almost a repeat of the meeting with his parents a month ago except this time, Tom was the one more formally dressed. His mother, in a pair of fitted pants and a pale blue open-necked shirt, sat next to his father, who was clad in his more usual attire of Starfleet uniform, once again on the sofa opposite Tom. His mother looked…hopeful. So far, Tom had managed to keep his ringed finger hidden from his parents, by keeping his hand in his pocket or behind his back. Now, with a performance worthy of a top-level media star, Tom nonchalantly picked up the dispatch case he’d placed at his feet. Standing it on its end ready to drop the front down onto the table, he made sure his finger was visible as he supported the top of its narrow edge.

“Dad, Mom, I’ve got something to tell you.”

Right on cue, his mother gave a scream. “Tommy!”

She leaned forward and picked up his hand. 

“Tommy?” she whispered this time.

“Umm, Mom, Dad, Chakotay and I got married on the weekend.” He had decided not to beat around the bush. “I flew out to meet him, and well, one thing led to another. He told me how much he loved me, and I realized I loved him too. He has to be away such a lot for the time being, and it isn’t possible for me to follow him around everywhere, so we decided…”he trailed off as he took in the tears trickling down his mother’s face. 

Miriam stood and held out her arms. Tom lowered the case slowly to the table, and then flew into his mother’s embrace. Even though he towered over her, he felt all of ten years old again.

“You’re not mad with me?” he asked.

“Oh, Tommy. I just knew you loved him. Naturally I wish we had been present at our only son’s wedding, but all I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I can tell you will be.”

Owen also stood and held his hand out to his son. They shook hands awkwardly for a moment, and then Tom found himself pulled close and his father hugged him for the first time in years.

“Commander Chakotay is a fine man, Son. I look forward to meeting him.”

“Sure, Dad,” said Tom, planning to worry about how he would deal with that prospect later, much later. “He wants to meet you too.”

“Ah, I think you need to sight something.” Tom turned to retrieve his marriage certificate.

Owen gave it a cursory glance, leaving Miriam to examine it in detail. He frowned as he considered the best way to broach the topic of Tom’s finances. He cleared this throat and launched into his prepared spiel.

“Tom, now that you’re married, you realize your allowance stops. You will have access to various investments that have been made in your name over the years, but many of them will not reach maturity for some years yet. It was always assumed that you would have a Starfleet officer’s income.”

Tom flushed a little with embarrassment. That was apparently going to remain a sore subject between father and son for the foreseeable future. He delved into the dispatch case again and withdrew a couple of PADDs.

“I have a new job, Dad. I’ve signed a contract with Nova Holoprograms. I’ve been working freelance for them for a while now. You…umm…you will probably recognize some of these,” and Tom handed over the first PADD, which listed all of Gene Barrett’s programs utilized by Starfleet. They were mostly flight sims, graded from basic training through to those written for elite level skilled pilots and covered the gamut from flying the smallest shuttles to galaxy class starships. 

“The ‘Barrett Training Sims’ – they’re yours? But these are arguably the best training sims Starfleet has used in the past twenty years. They’ve been part of the curriculum for five years.”

“Six,” corrected Tom.

“That means you were writing these at…”

“Seventeen.” Tom passed the second PADD to his father. This one contained the holoprograms that had been installed on many of the long-range ships, where the crew was primarily ship-bound for the duration of their missions, often five years. 

A third PADD was for the programs the public could run in holosuites, available for hire at places ranging from space stations and five star hotels, to the cheap public arcades. He decided discretion was the better part of valor, and left the PADD with the brothel programs in his case.

“Why haven’t you used your own name? These are exceptional programs.”

Tom shrugged. He thought it was obvious. “I didn’t want to trade on the Paris name. Besides, either Starfleet wouldn’t have used them at all, or it would have created a lot of problems had people known they were mine. Anyway, I’m entitled to the ‘Gene’ and Barrett is Grandmother Paris’ maiden name. I didn’t think anyone would spot the connection. You didn’t. You’re not to tell anyone, Dad. I just thought you and Mom were entitled to know now.”

Owen felt an undeniable feeling of pride wash over him. He looked over his tall, handsome son, and once more thought of the tremendous influence Commander Chakotay had wrought in such a small amount of time. 

“You’ll be staying for dinner, Tommy,” said Miriam hopefully.

“I can’t, Mom,” said Tom. “I’m meeting Harry and the others at the Piano Bar restaurant. I’m going to break the news of my marriage to Chakotay to them tonight as well. I’ll come tomorrow night, shall I?”

“That will be lovely. I’ll tell Rose to prepare all of your favorites. You’ll have to tell us what Chakotay likes to eat.”

“Sure. I’ll go tell Rose the news, and then I’ll be off.”

Tom repacked his case, hugged Miriam once more, shook hands with Owen and headed to the kitchen, from where Rose’s delighted scream was heard. He headed up to his old bedroom and changed into his more casual attire, showing off a new midnight blue collarless shirt and grey trousers to his mother before leaving.

~

Harry, the Delaney twins and several other ’Fleet personnel, along with B’Elanna, Tabor, Ayala, Dalby, Chell and Mariah Henley filled a large round table near the dance floor. The house pianist played suitable background music, interspersed with requests as the patrons ordered their meals and talked or, in the case of a few couples, danced. 

Tom kept his left hand on his lap to begin with as they passed around the menus and ordered drinks. He grinned widely as Jenny and Megan badgered him for details about what he’d gotten up to with Chakotay this time.

“Come on, Tom. You’ve always shared what happens in your love life with the rest of us. What about the time you got together with that medical student, what was his name, Julian, and the nurse. You didn’t leave even one minute of that out, not even the part with the Meddiccian sex aid, what did you call it? A speculum? Look at your smile. It had to be good!”

Tom leaned back as the buxom server placed his meal in front of him. He picked up his knife and rudely pointed it at the twins.

“Let’s just leave it at I had the best time ever, okay? Besides, what mischief have you two been getting up to while I was away? I’m sure it’s much more interesting than anything I could share.”

He brought his knife back to his plate, and casually picked up his fork. He slowly began cutting his meat. 

The restaurant lights caused the gold on Tom’s finger to gleam and it caught the attention of B’Elanna, who was seated on his left. She dropped her fork with a clatter and screamed. It must be a female thing, thought Tom as he smiled inwardly at her reaction. She grabbed Tom’s hand and held it up. The twins looked and screamed as well. Five for five, Tom thought inconsequentially.

“It’s a plain gold ring – on your wedding finger,” said B’Elanna, stating the obvious.

“Yeah,” confirmed Tom happily. “Everyone, I married Chakotay.”

A rumble of excited exclamations and eager questions swelled to a crescendo. In the end, Harry picked up his knife and tapped on his glass. When the noise quieted, he ordered, “Let Tom speak.”

“Firstly, he’s not here. His lecture tour is really intensive and the two days we had together were the last two we will be able to spend together for a while.” Repeating what he told his parents, Tom continued, “One thing led to another,” he paused, waiting for the laughter to die down, “and he told me he loved me. I realized I loved him too, and we decided to get married. I can confirm the honeymoon was way too short, but that is all the details you’ll be getting. Now you all have to do something to cheer me up because I’m really depressed. I won’t be seeing him again for ages.”

B’Elanna turned and pulled his face toward hers and kissed him soundly. The twins left their seats and elbowed B’Elanna aside so they could kiss him too. Alcohol flowed freely and the group celebrated into the night. They dragged Tom onto the dance floor and spun him from one person to the next, calling for one popular dance tune after another. The pianist gladly gave up his seat to Tom, who for once took only a little convincing to demonstrate his skills. He obliged with a lively piece first and then sang a couple of numbers, giving the sexy lyrics every laden ounce of innuendo he could ring from them. There was a round of applause from all of the patrons when Tom stood to let the regular pianist resume his street. He gave a half-embarrassed wave and returned to the table, flushed with pleasure.

In a back corner of the restaurant, two men shared a table. The elder, a dark, well-built man sat enthralled, watching the scene on the dance floor. The group was too noisy for him to distinguish any words, but he gathered they were celebrating something. His gaze returned to the tall blond man again and again. 

“Chief. Chief?” His companion tried to attract his attention. He peered closely into the distracted face of the man who was his boss. He snapped his fingers and when he finally had his attention, he offered with a grin, “Chief, you want me to find out who he is?” 

“Would you mind?”

“Of course not!” He studied the party intently, and after a few minutes, pushed back his chair and wove among the tables until he found the bathroom. It was all too easy to strike up a conversation with the talkative man who introduced himself as Harry and was only too happy to share the news of his friend’s grand passion and elopement.

On his way back at the table in the dark corner, Gerron dispensed with his carefully maintained neutral expression and frowned as he considered what his chief’s reaction to his news would be.

“Chief, I thought you once told me your mother made your name up, and that it was unique.”

“I did. She did. My aunt gave my cousin, the one who shares my birthday, my mother’s boy’s favorite name, so she invented mine. I, Chakotay am unique in every way,” and he grinned as he referred to what was obviously an old joke between the two. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Chakotay, the young blond man is Tom Paris, and he’s celebrating his marriage to…Commander Chakotay.”


	5. First Contact

“So, Chief, don’t you think you should tell me exactly what you got up to on your day off last week?” said Gerron sternly, although the dim lights in the back corner of the restaurant were bright enough to show his mouth twitching as he struggled to keep a smile off his face.

“I most certainly did not get married! I would be most interested to find out why this Tom Paris is telling everyone that he did.” Chakotay kept his eye on the exuberant young man, attracted to his bright good looks, the sexy body and obvious even at this distance, joy for life, even as he wondered what possible scam he could be perpetrating. “I think it’s most fortunate that we broke the trip here. Fate, even. He couldn’t possibly have made up my exact name.” 

For several minutes, he sat silently, sipping his drink and thinking. Gerron, used to his boss’ thoughtful fits, stayed quiet as well.

Suddenly reaching a decision, Chakotay turned to his aide-de-camp. He briskly issued a set of orders. “Contact the directors in the morning and cancel the final series of lectures. Say I’ve been recalled for some serious matter. A family crisis, if you think that will do. That’s not a total lie. It’s fortunate there were only another three to go. Cancel the shuttle flight as well, and find us somewhere in the area to stay from tomorrow, for several weeks, at least. Go down and mingle. Get as many names of that party as you can. I think I should stay out of sight for the present until we investigate this further. I want to know what’s going on.” He glanced at the boisterous party and back to Gerron. “Come back to the hotel or not, as you choose. I’ll see you in the morning and we’ll go make plans after you’ve dealt with business.” 

Chakotay pushed back his chair. He handed Gerron a couple of extra credit chips and left him to it. Their hotel was only a couple of blocks away and he strode briskly along the streets. It was still early enough for him to need to watch the foot traffic carefully, rather than totally lose himself in pondering the mystery that was Tom Paris and his marriage.

Once back in his room, Chakotay took off his shoes and went straight over to the computer. It did not take long for him to get the information he sought. He leant back in the seat and read aloud.

“Thomas Eugene Paris. Father – Admiral Owen Paris,” Chakotay’s mouth pursed in a silent whistle. He scanned quickly through the admiral’s antecedents. Leaving Tom’s official family history and abandoned Starfleet career for the moment, he followed the media trail of Tom’s involvement in the Monean incident. The strength of Tom’s convictions impressed him, especially as he agreed with the stance Tom had taken. It must have taken courage for him to defy his father’s wishes and to put a promising career on the line. 

Media articles of a different nature produce raised eyebrows and a wry grin. He easily recognized the young Klingon woman from the evening’s celebrations as the one Tom been caught with in flagrante delictco. There he was at the opening of a nightclub a year ago, with his arms around the twins, whose outfits barely qualified as lingerie let alone dresses. In another shot, he was captured kissing the Asian man, also one of tonight’s group.

Nowhere was there any indication Tom had recently married, although since his friends were only finding out that evening, the media had probably not got hold of the story yet. The marriage of the only son of Admiral Paris was certainly worth a column or two in the social pages. Chakotay resolved to check them out again in the morning. It struck him that it must have been a very quiet ceremony if none of Tom’s friends had been present. He also admitted he was intensely curious to see a picture of this Commander Chakotay. 

Digging deeply and utilizing his best computer hacking skills, a search of the directory netted him Tom’s address, where he found it was registered to Mr. Thomas E. Paris and Commander Chakotay. Noting it down, he left a message for Gerron to find somewhere to stay in that vicinity. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, aware that his vision was beginning to blur and a tension headache was developing. Deciding he would concentrate better in the morning, Chakotay took himself to bed.

~

Back at the Piano Bar Gerron made his way down to the dance floor and started moving to the beat. He twisted and shifted rhythmically, sliding from group to group, catching snippets of conversation, memorizing names as he heard them. Changing tactics, he left the dance floor for the bar, and then holding his drink carefully, wove around the tables until he was standing by the large round one. He maneuvered past the seats with precision timing until he was level with Harry’s at the same instant a server came from the other direction. With a calculated stumble that would look accidental to an observer, Gerron’s foot caught on Harry’s chair as he twisted to avoid the server, and Harry found himself wearing Gerron’s drink.

Immediately Gerron apologized. Fortunately, Harry was not an ill-tempered drunk and laughed the accident off. He waved aside Gerron’s stammered recriminations. 

“Hey, I ’member you. I tol’ you ’bout my friend Tom and how Tom got hitched. You said tell him congra’sherlations. You can tell him yourself. Hey Tom, get over here. Gerry’s got somethin’ to tell you.” 

Tom stared owlishly at Harry’s beckoning arm. He waved back and then using the backs of everyone’s chairs as a guidance system, he worked his way around to Harry’s side of the table.

“Gerry, this is Tom. Tom, I met Gerry before. He wants to tell you something.” Harry got all the salient points of the introduction in logical order and beamed widely. “Go on, Gerry.”

“It’s Gerron. Gerron Tem,” he said by way of introduction. “I just wanted to offer my congratulations on your marriage. Harry told me quite a tale about your elopement.”

“Thank, Gerron. Yeah, it was one of those things. Chakotay told me he loved me and I realized I felt the same way about him. As he was going to be away for six months or more on his lecture tour, we decided all of a sudden to make things permanent.” The story now rolled off Tom’s tongue with ease. His parents, his friends and even the manager at his apartment block had all heard the same details.

Tom noticed Gerron eagerly scrutinizing all the men at the table. “He’s not here. We were married off world. I met up with him after his last lecture before he moved on to the next symposium.” Tom sighed theatrically. “We’ll just have to make do with long distance communications for a while.”

“I can just imagine what those will be like,” chimed in Megan. “Oh, Tommy, I miss you so much. I dream of you every night. My cock is so hard for you as I think about ramming it…”

“Megan!” Tom laughingly interrupted. “Gerron here is not used to your…err…bluntness.”

Jenny took up the tale. “Dear Chakky, I sit here reading your loving message to me and I can’t help responding. I’m imagining your lips around me as I stroke myself…”

“Chakky? Chakky!” Tom screeched indignantly. “No way! I do not call him ‘Chakky’!”

“Stop interrupting, Tom. We want to hear all the details. If you won’t tell us, we’ll just have to go with Jenny and Megan’s version of events,” said B’Elanna. “You never used to be so closed mouthed.”

“Chakky doesn’t seem to be closed mouthed at all,” put in Harry, sniggering at his own weak joke.

“Fuck the lot of you,” responded Tom easily.

“You won’t be doing that anymore!” Harry said gleefully.

“What?”

“Fucking the lot of us. You’re a married man now, and Chakky might object.” Harry took a drink and put his glass down on the table with a thump. “…’sides, you can’t. ’member the Legashy. You can only fuck Chakky now for the rest of your life!” Harry pronounced carefully and then chortled wildly, before stopping and looking solemnly at Tom. “’s how I knew you mus’ really love him,” he finished with a sigh.

“How do you know about the Paris Legacy?”

“Your mom, Mrs. P. She tol’ me. I tol’ them,” said Harry with a wave of his hand, meant to encompass everyone at the table. “You both have to be faithful to one another. You shouldda hadda buck’s night first, Tom. Can’t do that now.” Harry was a trifle sorrowful.

Gerron filed away ‘Paris Legacy’ in his mind and wondered how much more information he could wring from the garrulous Harry.

Tom’s brain whirled as that unforeseen side-effect of his marriage battled with the alcohol for processing. Fuck! Or rather, no more fuck, at least not with anyone he knew. He didn’t blame his mother, or Harry. It wasn’t as though the Paris Legacy was a secret. It just was not common knowledge, as it had not been at all important since his parents’ marriage and subsequent production of offspring.

After a little more teasing, during which Tom paid only enough attention to make appropriate comebacks, he wrapped himself in a cloak of dignity and announced that he had to work in the morning, even if the rest of them didn’t, and he would take his leave, and besides, he wanted to compose a communication to his husband.

“Don’t forget to include Jenny’s suggestions,” said B’Elanna, and she continued, “Picture me, Chakky, as I suck on my finger, making it wet, and then touch myself, thinking of you, wishing it was you…”

Tom left, flushing slightly as the details B’Elanna’s ‘letter’ played out in his mind.

Meanwhile, the twins had ascertained Gerron was alone and invited him to join the party. He accepted with alacrity. An hour later, he left with the twins and Tabor. The foursome decided against going on to a different nightclub and instead head back to the twins’ apartment. He would have preferred to go with Harry, but Harry and B’Elanna decided to commiserate together over Tom being permanently off the market. She draped Harry’s arm across her shoulder and steered him carefully out of the bar.

~

Gerron joined Chakotay shortly after nine the following morning. Chakotay examined Gerron’s face, but the young man showed no signs of a hangover.

“Report.”

“Tom Paris’ friends are a mixed group. Some are Starfleet graduates. Harry Kim is spending a year working in the Engineering section here before applying for a starship posting. Megan and Jenny Delaney are also Fleet. Their father is Admiral Frazer Delaney. Maquis Research and Development employ a number of the others. B’Elanna Torres is a talented engineer. She’s a Starfleet dropout, by the way. Chell, the Bolian, and Kenneth Dalby are engineers also. Ayala is Security. Mariah Henley, the fluffy haired one, works in reception.” Gerron ran quickly through the others in the party.

“None of them were aware Paris had married, although they knew he’d been seeing a mystery man, ‘Commander Chakotay’, for several weeks. They’ve seen pictures of him in Paris’ new apartment. He moved permanently out of home shortly after entering into this new relationship. According to the Delaney sisters, Chakotay is tall, dark and handsome. He’s incredibly sexy, and they spent quite a while raving over his physical virtues. They can’t wait to meet him in the flesh, although they have been firmly warned by Paris he’s off limits. That is quite unusual for this crowd. I heard the Delaneys referred to as ‘The Wild Ones’ by some of the other patrons, and there are some pretty amazing tales about the sexual shenanigans of several members of the party, including Paris.”

“I have an idea what some of them are,” interrupted Chakotay. “I did a basic search last night. The media is more than happy to keep the public up to date with the exploits of the current ‘Fleet Brat Pack’, and anything involving the Paris name is newsworthy. Did you know Tom was involved in the Monean Incident?”

Gerron shook his head. Starfleet’s handling of the Monean situation had made the news in two quadrants, but Gerron remembered only the broad outlines, not any of the specific details.

“Did your search turn up anything about something called the ‘Paris Legacy’? I have only been able to get a few details, but I think that’s where we need to start looking.” At Chakotay’s motion of negation, Gerron continued, “Apparently Paris had never mentioned this legacy to his friends either. Harry found out about it from Mrs Paris. It seems the eldest Paris male of each generation must marry by the time they are twenty-five. Paris turns twenty-four next month. As Tom had shown no sign of settling down, the admiral and Mrs Paris have organized a ball as part of the celebrations. According to Harry, Mrs Paris contacted him to get a list of Tom’s friends to make sure they got invitations. It seems Tom was to select his future spouse from the attendees. The admiral had selected a large group of contenders from Starfleet, and Mrs Paris let slip to Harry Tom’s reaction on seeing his father’s choices. It seems Mrs Paris was not too pleased about some of them herself, and enlisted Harry’s aid to make sure Tom had plenty of his own friends there, males as well as females.”

Chakotay frowned. “Why do they need to marry by the time they turn twenty-five?”

“That wasn’t mentioned. The only other piece of information I have about the legacy is that the marriage is literally until parted by death, and once married the spouses must remain faithful to each other. They were razzing Paris about not being able to sleep around anymore.” Gerron looked at Chakotay and sniggered. “That means you won’t be able to sleep with anyone else except Paris now either!”

Chakotay snorted and changed the subject.

“You mentioned the Delaneys had seen pictures of this Chakotay.”

“Yes, at Paris’ apartment.”

“The address is on the top PADD over there. Get us somewhere to stay nearby and don't forget to cancel my lectures and the flight.” Chakotay turned from the window where he’d been staring unappreciatively at the view and crossed the living room to fling himself on the sofa. He looked up at the ceiling and stroked a finger along his jaw as he thought about the Paris Legacy. The notion had him more than a little intrigued.

Twenty minutes later, Gerron interrupted his musings.

“Chief! Your lectures are cancelled. The director hopes your family crisis will resolve soon. He did say to remind you that you will forfeit the fee for the missed lectures. The flights are cancelled, and we have an appointment in one hour to view an apartment around the corner from Paris’ place. His block fronts onto the northern aspect of quite a large park. This one faces the east onto the same park, however we will have to take it for three months.”

“Fine. You go. If it turns out to be suitable, put it in your name only. If it’s not, find somewhere else. Make sure the computer connection is up to speed and get everything we need installed. I’ll stay here and see what I can dig up on the Paris Legacy.

~

A week later, Chakotay followed Tom from a distance as he jogged around the park at dusk. Between them, he and Gerron had kept Tom under close watch, Chakotay taking on the jogging and daytime activities, whilst Gerron insinuated himself into Tom’s group of friends and participated in the evening social obligations. Chakotay had several contacts in San Francisco who were happy to supply him with what he needed in the way of state-of-the-art surveillance equipment. Between them, they soon had a reasonable idea of Tom’s habits and lifestyle. 

It seemed marriage was good for Tom. The wild young man who previously thought no further than planning the next prank, party or pool game with his friends had settled down. He took casual piloting jobs, but he chose his employers more carefully, and he obviously had some sort of other employment that kept him at his computer for many hours, but he still met with his friends most nights. He always came home alone. 

Chakotay was growing frustrated. Despite his best efforts, he had yet to break through the encryptions Tom set to protect his work. While he hoped Tom was not involved in anything illegal, his work in counter-espionage made him naturally suspicious, and some of the details Tom had provided about his husband were uncannily accurate. Chakotay was born on Dorvan V. His father was dead. He had two sisters as well as two brothers, whom Tom had not mentioned. He actually was a Commander, who had supposedly taken indefinite leave to give a series of lectures in the field of anthropology, but in reality was working undercover, with the lectures taking place on carefully selected planets. Fortuitously at his last stopover, they had actually identified and caught the man Chakotay was after, and he was entitled to some time off. He had decided to finish the last few symposiums and do some sightseeing at the same time. Instead, he found himself investigating this mystery here on Earth.

He'd also found out little more about the Paris Legacy. Public knowledge was restricted to the eldest male Paris heir being wedded by twenty-five, the marriage being broken by death, both parties remaining faithful and there was a period of twenty years or so to beget the next heir. The legacy had remained unbroken since its inception – until now – and nobody was aware that it had been broken, except Tom, and Chakotay and Tabor, who knew very well Chakotay was still single.

The marriage of Tom Paris and Commander Chakotay had been reported in the morning media, but as no pictures had been forthcoming, nor were there any tales of elaborate ceremonies or extravagant receptions, the announcement had been restricted to a small paragraph towards the back of the social section.

After mentally reviewing everything about the case, Chakotay decided there was nothing more to gain from research and surveillance. It was time first contact. Tomorrow, he decided to the rhythmic pounding of his feet as he jogged along a few minutes behind Tom. A cry in the distance distracted him and looked ahead to see Tom being set upon by a group of thugs. He broke into a run. 

The youths were obviously members of a gang, dressed alike and uttering some kind of war cry. They had surrounded Tom near the top of the footbridge that crossed the stream that ran through the park. Chakotay reached the fray in time to witness a heavy blow to the side of Tom’s head that surely scrambled his neurons, even as he somehow remained conscious. With a yell of his own, Chakotay neatly dispatched one with an uppercut to the jaw. The smack of bone onto concrete was extremely satisfying. 

Three of the gang turned from Tom and flung themselves on Chakotay. He wrestled with them ineffectually, unable to get a firm footing. His arms were pinned.

Tom took out the fifth boy on his own and turned to help the stranger who had come to his aid. Blood poured from a cut above one eye and his vision wavered alarmingly, but he managed to pull one of the attackers away, allowing his savior to gain some control. 

Chakotay found his body pressed up against the railing. He had one arm free now, but a lucky knee to the groin caused him to lose control and he found himself bent dangerously over the railing. He clasped the cool metal just in time as the three of them went over the edge. One of the attackers dangled from his arm, the other from a knee. It was short work to kick the lower one hard enough so that he let go and fell in the water with a splash. The other youth tried to climb up Chakotay and clamber back onto the bridge, but Tom brought his closed fists down upon the head of spiky hair dyed orange, and with a final shake from Chakotay, he joined his friend in the stream.

Tom extended an arm to help his rescuer and for the first time got a good look at his face. What color he hadn’t already lost drained away, leaving the rivulets of blood scarlet against his white face. The hand that took the man’s weight suddenly felt nerveless.

“Chakotay,” he whispered, staring into brown eyes that looked steadily back into his own. He barely registered the tattoo that marked Chakotay’s left brow, or the warm smile directed at him. Chakotay’s weight shifted, dragging Tom back to reality and he focused enough to help the man back to firmer ground. Running steps intruded on the moment. Gerron, who had seen the beginning of the assault through the surveillance gear, came hurrying up. As he fussed around Chakotay, Tom gave one last wild look and took to his feet. 

“That didn’t go quite to plan,” said Chakotay wryly.

“Do you want me to go after him?” asked Gerron.

“No. Let it go for now. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”


	6. The Real Thing

Cautiously Tom entered the lobby of his apartment block. He’d subconsciously been aware of the looks he’d attracted as he rushed through the park. The blood from the cut above his eye had slowed to a gentle seepage, his shirt was torn and he had a number of bruises and grazes adorning his limbs. Fortunately, the place was deserted; even Karyn, daughter of the landlord and part-time manager of the apartments was nowhere in sight.

Once inside his own rooms, he leaned back against the door and breathed deeply for several minutes. When his heart finally approached a more rate, he made his way to the bathroom. He peered in the mirror and decided to heal his face before taking a shower. He deliberately blanked the incident in the park from his mind for the time being. He found what he needed, cleaned his face and then passed the regenerator over the cut. A quick examination of his limbs failed to reveal anything else that needed urgent attention, so he peeled off his clothes and stood under the shower for a long time. 

His head still ached so he rejected coffee and alcohol in favor of a hypospray and a glass of water. Glass in hand, he wandered over to the mantelpiece and picked up the frame holding the image of Chayton-Chakotay hugging the dog. He mentally superimposed the features of the man in the park over the face in the photo. It was the coloring, Tom decided. That and the broad forehead. And the dimples. And the brown eyes. Other than that, they weren’t really alike. Of course, the nose and the chin were similar, but they were obviously from the same background and therefore looked alike to a stranger. He gave brief consideration to his rescuer’s tattoo and harrumphed in imitation of his father. He then reminded himself of the stress he was under at the time, as well as the fact that everyone knew the mind played tricks when the body was under duress, and happily convinced himself the likeness was extremely superficial. 

The click of the frame as he returned the picture to the mantel was loud in the silent apartment. Tom ordered the computer to play one of his programmed selections of music and replicated a bowl of tomato soup. He stretched out on the sofa when the bowl was empty and closed his eyes. He drifted off to sleep and dreamed of warm brown eyes, a tattooed brow and large hands that touched his body in the best possible way.

Tom woke on the sofa and dragged himself up into a sitting position. He massaged the crick in his neck. Coffee was becoming an urgent consideration when the door chimed. He frowned; he wasn’t expecting anyone this early. Thankfully, his clothing was clean although rumpled, and he ran his fingers through his hair as he called, “Coming already,” in answer to the second chime.

Tom longed for an old fashioned door to slam shut when he took in the person standing in his door way.

“Tom Paris, I presume.”

He tried to gather his scattered wits as the four simple words sent shivers down his spine. He managed a nod, and continued to stand and gape at the man of his dreams.

“May I come in? We need to talk.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Come in.” 

Tom indicated the armchairs. 

“Take a seat. Coffee?” he offered.

“Yes, please. Black, one sugar, thanks.”

Tom padded into to kitchenette and returned with two replicated coffees. He handed one to the other man and took a seat opposite him. He swallowed a mouthful of his own brew and placed the mug on the table in front of him. 

“I should thank you for coming to my aid last night, so, ah, thanks. Are you all right? I’m…umm...sorry I didn’t stay…Your friend…As long as you’re okay.” Tom mentally cursed his incoherency as he wound down. 

“I’m fine, thanks. You?”

“I’m okay. It’s amazing what a well-charged regenerator can achieve.” 

“True.”

The conversation ground to a halt as they stared at each other.

“By the way, what did you say your name was?” asked Tom finally breaking the spell.

Chakotay’s mouth curled slowly with anticipation. “My name,” he pronounced deliberately, “is Chakotay. Commander Chakotay. Of Dorvan V” he added for good measure.

There was a moment’s silence and then Tom burst into an outbreak of vehement protesting. 

“What? No! Fuck, no! You can’t be. You’re making it up!”

“As I said, we need to talk…husband.”

Tom flushed then paled. He rubbed his eyes and cheeks, and then dropped back against the sofa where he lay looking at the ceiling for a moment. He sighed deeply and dragged himself back into a sitting position. After using some time for a mouthful of coffee and to try and gather his thoughts, he spoke cautiously.

“All right, what would you like to talk about?” 

“Let’s start with our marriage. You know a man named Gerron Tem,” said Chakotay in a conversational tone as he leaned forward.

Tom nodded. He liked the young Bajoran man, who had settled into a comfortable foursome with fellow Bajoran Tabor, and the twins.

“He’s my aide-de-camp. About a week ago he came back from an evening out at…ah…the Piano Bar, where he’d met a young man called Harry, who told him a story about his best friend’s elopement. Later he had an opportunity to meet that friend, a man by the name of Tom Paris. You can imagine his surprise when he found out the name of Tom’s husband – one Commander Chakotay of Dorvan V. Now, as far as either of us is aware, there is only one Commander Chakotay of Dorvan V, and I’m him, and I know I haven’t married to you, or anyone else for that matter, so I’d really like to meet the person who has stolen my identity.”

Chakotay leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Tom carefully, intending to look for any signs of prevarication, however Tom’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a fascinating manner when he swallowed, momentarily distracting him. 

This was it. Tom had to decide in the next few seconds whether to tell Chakotay the truth and hope the other man would support him in his deception, or go with his lie and convince him that his Chakotay was real. The unfortunate string of coincidences of name, apparent age, rank and place of birth decided him. He would have to tell the truth. He swallowed convulsively as he weighed his words.

“You have to promise me something.”

“I can’t promise you anything, Tom, until you tell me what’s involved.”

“If I tell you the truth, you have to swear you won’t say anything to anyone. Not to Gerron. Not to anyone. You have to keep everything I tell you a secret.”

Chakotay frowned. A thought occurred, and he asked, “Does this have anything to do with the Paris Legacy?”

_Pay dirt!_ he thought, as Tom started. 

“What do you know about the Paris Legacy?”

“Not much more than what Harry told Gerron. The eldest male Paris of each generation must be married by the time they are twenty-five, the marriage is until death, and the couple has about twenty years to produce an heir. But Tom, you’re not quite twenty-four. You have another twelve months before you need to marry.”

“Please, Commander Chakotay, swear you won’t tell anyone and I’ll explain everything.”

Tom was clearly agitated. Chakotay considered his options. Actually, it was in his interests to find out as much as he could. He needed to be able to explain away his ‘marriage’ should any of his superiors hear of it. Should Tom present him with any reason to share the truth with anyone, he was sure he would be able to convince Tom to let him do so.

“Very well. I won’t tell anyone unless I have your permission.”

Tom opened his mouth, but Chakotay forestalled any objections. “It’s the best I can do, Tom. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Tom tipped his head to one side and stared into Chakotay’s eyes. What he saw reassured him and he nodded in agreement.

“Okay, Commander.”

“I think under the circumstances you can call me Chakotay.”

Tom gave a small laugh. “I guess you’re right – Chakotay.” The name tripped easily off his lips and it felt surprisingly good using it for the man opposite. “Would you like more coffee or anything?”

Chakotay shook his head. “If you want to get yourself something, go ahead. I obviously woke you up.”

“I’ll get something later. It’s hard to know where to begin. I suppose it all started with my father. Did you ever have family meetings? Dad calls them whenever he has something of great importance, usually only to him, to impart to the rest of us. Around two months ago, I got the order to attend a meeting – in the formal living room. Straight away I knew it was a bad thing, mostly we meet in the study if it’s just the two of us, or at tea time if it involves Mom or my sisters. But this wasn’t just with Dad in the living room – Mom was in attendance as well. To make matters worse, I was kind of hung over and had barely any sleep.” Tom looked uncomfortable, but decided he didn’t need to elaborate any further as that evening’s activities had no bearing on the matter at hand. He rubbed his hand across his eyes.

“I dragged myself downstairs only to find Dad dressed in a suit and tie, no sign of a Starfleet uniform - you know about the Paris Legacy so you obviously know Dad is Admiral Paris,” he added parenthetically, “and Mom all dressed up and wearing the family pearls at nine in the morning. I nearly pissed myself. Dad went into speech mode and brought up the Legacy. Forget waiting until I was twenty-five. I think they were worried I’d hook up with someone totally unsuitable. They had a list of potential wives, practically all Fleet issue that Dad had obviously selected. Mom was sweet. She put in a word for my friends. Dad doesn’t like most of them. You should have seen his choices.  
There was a bunch from the U.S.S. Enterprise, ranging from the CMO, who by the way is my Mom’s age, and the ship’s counselor. He was going to pull strings and get me appointed as helmsman on the Enterprise.” Tom couldn’t keep the bitterness he still felt completely hidden.

“Then there was his protégé, the newly promoted Captain Kathryn Janeway.” An unrestrained snort accompanied that name. “As if I’d go for someone…” he stopped short, and continued, “of course, he messed up with one person. I guess her sexual preferences weren’t listed on his file.” He sniggered briefly. “Mom tried to help, reassuring me they would accept anyone who would make me happy. I could choose a friend of mine, even B’Elanna. They were not interested in my protests. I didn’t want, or rather don’t want, to be married.” The smile he’d worn during that revelation about B’Elanna’s acceptability faded for a moment, but reemerged as he explained the next step in his parent’s campaign.

“They did the silent communication bit and Dad picked up a pile of PADDs he’d hidden from my sight. These were his choices for a husband.”

“They didn’t mind you marrying a man?” Chakotay interrupted.

“Nope. Well, that’s not strictly true. A man wasn’t their first preference, but they know I’ve had relationships with men and women, and, well…anyway, it was back to some more of the Enterprise crew, starting with Captain Picard, can you believe it? Dad tried to make out that PADD had got in there by accident, but Mom nearly throttled him. Then she picked out some guy she thought was tall, dark and handsome, just how I liked them, she informed me. The only thing was he’s Vulcan, so I mentioned sex and sure enough, Dad got all embarrassed and tried to shut me up.” Tom grinned at the memory.

“Then they tell me they’ve organized a ball to celebrate my birthday, and all of the people on these PADDs, plus any of my non-Starfleet friends and anyone else that occurred to them are to receive an invitation. I was to choose someone to ‘get to know better’,” and Tom made exaggerated quotation marks in the air with his fingers, “and then we would announce our engagement – Valentine’s Day was suggested as a possibility for that – and then get married on or before my twenty-fifth birthday.”

Tom’s face, which had brightened during the Vulcan anecdote, dropped again. Chakotay stared, fascinated by his mercurial expressions. 

“They were not listening to me. It didn’t matter how many times I repeated myself. I don’t want to be married. I like being single. I like the freedom to do my own thing, to go where and when I want, to enjoy myself. So I figured, if I told them I was married, it would get them off my back. I thought it through carefully.” 

Tom ticked off the points on his fingers.

“A male was the easiest decision. No need to worry about children for a long time. Less hassles with my parents – they don’t see much of my brothers-in-law. Easier for me to keep him off-world. I prefer the sex more.” The last was said with a quick look beneath his eyelashes at Chakotay. “So I made up someone that met my criteria for an ideal mate, and organized a whirlwind romance and an elopement. He’s away on an extended lecture tour and unable to get back here for ages. I thought I’d have plenty of time to find more reasons for his continuing absence at a later date.”

At this point Chakotay interrupted, “What would happen in the event you actually did meet someone you fell in love with and wanted to marry?”

Tom shrugged. “I’d kill off Chakotay.”

“I’m still really curious as to where you got his name from. I always thought it was unique. My mother told me she made it up.”

“I didn’t want to use the real name of the man whose pictures I altered. I didn’t particularly like any other traditional names from his heritage, so I put together a bunch of syllables until I found a combination I liked the sound of. It’s the truth,” he added as he took in Chakotay’s skeptical expression.

“Look, I’ll show you.” Tom collected the pictures he’d displayed on the mantel and took them over to the computer. He entered a few commands and quickly found ‘Susie’s Super Studs’. “Come here.”

He placed his manipulated print of ‘Chakotay’ hugging the dog next to the original screen shot. Neither man was prepared for Chakotay’s exclamation.

“Chayton!”

“Why, yes. That’s his name. But how did you know? You don’t go surfing these sites, do you?”

Tom eyed Chakotay speculatively and a slow smile settled over his features when he discerned the faint flush deepening the other man’s color.

“No! No, I don’t, although you obviously do!” Chakotay recovered his aplomb quickly enough to produce the riposte and collect his own reward when Tom blushed in turn.

“You still haven’t explained how you know his name.”

“Are there any other images?”

“Yes. Wanna see?”

“Does he have a tattoo on his shoulder blade? A falcon?”

“Actually, he does.” Tom found the horse-riding pose.

Chakotay examined it briefly. He groaned as he tipped back his head and closed his eyes.

“He’s my cousin. That’s my horse.”

Tom’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “No way!”

“Chayton is my cousin. We were born on the same day. He’s four hours older than I am. Everyone said we could have been twins. Apart from looks though, we’re nothing alike.” Chakotay pushed Tom aside and scrolled through the images, muttering colorful imprecations under his breath. He could feel Tom shaking beside him.

Tom was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh, but the funny side of the unlikely coincidences was too much for his and he gave rein to a hearty chuckle. He picked up the framed print and held it close to Chakotay’s face, who'd turned to watch Tom laugh.

“It’s rather freaky, you know. Except for your tattoo, everything else - the hairstyle, the extra dimple, the slight changes to the nose and chin – it’s you. Do you…would you tell me a bit about yourself? You really are a commander, and you’re really from Dorvan V?”

“Shall we sit down again?”

Tom nodded, and carefully shut down the computer before joining Chakotay back on their previous seats.

“Yes, I really am a commander and yes, I really hail from Dorvan V. I work for the government, but I’m currently on sabbatical in order to give a series of lectures in anthropology.”

“My Chakotay is lecturing in comparative archaeology,” interrupted Tom.

“I’m thirty-four…” 

“Ditto.”

“Youngest of five…”

“Youngest of three.” Tom couldn’t restrain himself.

“My mother lives on Dorvan. My father is dead.”

Tom made a choking sound. “Same,” he croaked.

“I like dogs and horses. I enjoy swimming in the summer and skiing in the winter. I thought I was single.” Chakotay let a small smile play over his features and continued softly, “My preference was to one day have a husband and I don’t want to be killed off.”

Tom jumped up and began to pace. He ran his hand through his tousled hair. Clearly agitated, he spoke quickly,

“That’s it. You have to go. You have to leave Earth now. Have any of my friends actually seen you? No, they can’t have. They would have mentioned it. Your presence here is a risk to everything. I…you…I set things up to work with an absent husband, so he wouldn’t interfere. I tell you, I don’t want to be married. I like my life just as it was and this was working perfectly. Remember, you promised. You can’t tell anyone this isn’t real. You can’t. When is your next lecture scheduled for? You could get an earlier transport. We can book it here, now, or I’ll hire a shuttle and take you there myself.”

Chakotay caught hold of Tom’s hand as he passed by. For a timeless moment, every cell in his body seemed to vibrate in pure harmony. He felt hot and cold at the same time, and he wanted Tom with an intensity that shocked him. He used the time it took to stand and pull Tom to face him to get himself under control. His gaze roamed Tom’s face, lingering almost imperceptibly on his mouth before flickering back to look deeply into wild blue eyes. 

“Slow down. I’m not going anywhere. My tour has finished and I’ve decided to stay here awhile. Oh, I’ll take care to keep out of your friends’ paths, for the time being, but you…”

Chakotay moved suddenly. He pulled Tom close, and kissed him, lightly for a few seconds, then more insistently, using his lips and tongue to coax and tease until he began to respond. As his tongue stroked here and there, his hands joined the dance, caressing shoulders, hips and elsewhere. When he became aware of Tom’s burgeoning erection pressing against his own, Chakotay drew back. He clasped Tom’s hands again, holding him in place as he caught his breath.

“You forgot one thing, husband,” emphasizing the last, “as far as everyone is concerned, we’re married, and your friends know that your marriage is one that embodies faithfulness. On both our parts. Which has the potential to put a severe crimp in my sex life, as well as yours. Unless we’re having sex together. Think about it.”

Tom’s mouth opened and he drew a breath ready to launch into another protest, but Chakotay took the opportunity to kiss him deeply once more. He broke the kiss before Tom began to fully respond, then holding Tom’s gaze with his, he drew Tom’s left hand to his mouth and placed a kiss over the plain gold band.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Tom,” said Chakotay as he slipped from the apartment, leaving Tom in turmoil.

Tom flung himself on his couch, and covered his eyes with an arm. He groaned out loud.

“What have I done now?”


	7. A Little Romance

Chakotay returned to his lodgings, pleased overall with how things had turned out. The one thing he hadn’t counted on was the strength of his attraction to Tom. Now he had actually met him, Chakotay was determined to bed him before he found a way to convince Tom to end their fake marriage. He knew he could take the easy way and threaten to tell everyone the truth, but blackmail was a nasty business. He turned a few ideas over and decided since they were supposed to be deeply in love with each other and still living in the rosy, albeit distant, glow of newly wedded bliss, he would be the ideal romantic husband, pining for his love. He tightened his surveillance and wasn’t surprised when Tom took off later that afternoon.

~

In a dim, smoky bar in Marseilles, Tom sat in a corner nursing a drink. He’d planned to get stinking drunk and find a warm body in which to bury himself for a while, taking his mind off the disaster he’d managed to bring upon himself. Instead, he found himself twisting his wedding ring round his finger, unable to bring himself to take it off, and unaccountably rejecting each of the offers that had come his way. He silently berated himself. He wasn’t really married, so why did he feel as though he’d be cheating on Chakotay? He finished what was only his third drink for the evening and left. 

He went back to his hotel and kicked off his shoes. He lay on the bed, hands behind his head and ankles crossed. The ceiling had a faint pattern of squares, but counting them only made his vision blur. It didn’t stop him thinking. Damn the man. Now he had real kisses to fuel his fantasies, but he knew when Chakotay kissed him without holding back, they would be simply incendiary together, and that meant it could not happen. Tom couldn’t risk finding out whether Chakotay could give him everything he wanted and needed in a relationship, only to lose it when Chakotay got what he wanted and went away, leaving Tom alone. His way was best for himself – lots of fun, and nobody got hurt.

Tom made his plans. Unfortunately, with his birthday coming up, he just couldn’t go away. He knew his mother was upset at missing his wedding and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings any more by forcing her to cancel his birthday ball, which she'd now combined with a wedding reception, albeit with one of the wedding party absent. He would break the news to her a day or so before that Chakotay was simply unable to be there. Besides, he’d now have to come up with some explanation for the appearance of the man's tattoo. He would lay odds it had some sort of religious significance, and that there would be no way he could talk Chakotay into covering it up with make-up. Truth to tell, suggesting erasure of the sexy tattoo was not an option for Tom either.

The best thing to do would be to remain in the company of others as far as possible. Tom believed Chakotay would keep his promise not to tell anyone the marriage wasn’t real, and to lay low. He conveniently ignored the veiled threat of ‘for the time being’. He’d have to make sure Chakotay would keep Gerron busy as much as possible, and that he would warn Gerron not to let anything he knew slip. He assumed Chakotay had already said something along similar lines as Gerron hadn’t said anything to anyone yet, but Tom decided not to leave that assumption to chance. He would return home in the morning and make sure.

~

Back in his apartment, Tom checked his incoming messages. He'd tentatively booked another timeslot at Nova Holoprograms for later in the week. He was of two minds as to whether to cancel, but he’d requested a six hour block as he had another new program that was ready for the first round of testing, and the refinements he’d made to Insurrection: Alpha needed to be checked. Nova had replied. Ricky offered him a five-hour slot four days hence, from 0100 until 0600. If he particularly needed the six hours, he would have to wait nine days. He decided to accept. It would mean an overnight stay, but he’d done that before. A company he’d flown for on several previous occasions had a three-day piloting job next week if he wanted it. He thought for a few minutes before confirming he would take it. It was important to stick to his regular routine as far as possible, and it was good business sense not to turn down too many jobs when you free-lanced.

There was a message from a source he did not recognize. He determined it was safe to open and then sat back, a hungry expression on his face. Chakotay had sent some pictures of himself. One, a formal portrait in his dress uniform, was obviously intended to replace the other one of Chayton that had been visible during his visit. There was a similar pose with him hugging a dog. A note explained the dogs were from the same litter. There were two other pictures. One had obviously come from Susie’s Super Studs. Chakotay had unerring selected Tom’s favorite shot of Chayton on the white bedding, and replaced Chayton’s head with his own. The other Tom was sure was of Chakotay himself. He had been swimming, and was leaning wetly against a rock, propping himself up on his forearms. His smile was carefree. One long leg was visible to the knee-deep water, and it was patently obvious he wasn’t wearing a swimming costume. 

The accompanying letter asked him to replace Chayton’s pictures with his own, although the second pair was for Tom’s personal perusal only. He also wrote Tom was at liberty to explain that Chakotay’s tattoo was a tribal mark one could chose to wear after a making a life-changing decision. It wasn’t totally accurate, but it would do, and was Tom interested in honoring any of his people’s customs’ now he had married into the tribe, so to speak? He would be happy to explain the marriage customs in detail any time Tom wished. Also would Tom like to join him for dinner either tonight or the following evening?

Tom didn’t think twice. He contacted Harry. Dinner at Francine’s for as many as would be available was on for tomorrow night. He then called his Mom. She and Owen would be dining at home that evening and would love Tom to join them. Tom formally replied to Chakotay’s message, regretfully declining the dinner invitation, explaining his social commitments with his parents, and then his friends. At the last minute, he added an informal postscript. He thanked Chakotay for the images and asked the two things he really wanted to know – what were the names of the dogs, and why had Chakotay chosen that particular Studs pose. 

~

Later that evening, he sat at the dining table with his parents. Rose had cooked a superlative meal as usual. Talk had remained general throughout the main meal, but when dessert had been served, Miriam turned to Tom and asked about Chakotay.

“He’s fine, Mom. Busy, of course. The lectures are going well.”

“Excuse me.”

Rose’s legs and skirt could be seen beneath a large floral arrangement.

“This was delivered here for Mr. Tom Paris.”

“Oh, they’re beautiful! Look Tom!” Miriam examined the bouquet of flowers in shades of creams, pink, blue and purples woven into assorted greenery. “Take them through to the living room for now, Rose.” 

Rose handed Tom the accompanying envelope on her way back through to the kitchen. He placed it face down on the table next to his plate.

“Aren’t you going to open that, Tommy?” asked Miriam archly.

Tom slit the envelope and scanned the enclosed note. He flushed faintly and replaced it on the table. He picked up his spoon and deliberately scooped up another piece of pie.

“It’s from Chakotay, isn’t it? He’s quite the romantic, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes he is.”

“Telling you he’s thinking of you, that he loves you and that you have beautiful eyes.”

“Huh? How did you know that’s what he wrote, Mom?”

Miriam gave a tinkling laugh. “The flowers, Tommy. He’s actually quite subtle, as there’s not a red rose among them, but the myrtle is a symbol of love in absence. The meaning of arbutus has kept its quaint phrasing of ‘thee only do I love’. The blue salvia means ‘I think of you’, the pink camellias say ‘I long for you’ and the variegated tulips mean he thinks you have beautiful eyes.” Miriam smile fondly at her son, who was now blushing furiously. “I’ll point them all out to you before you leave. There were a couple of other flowers in there I didn’t get a close look at.”

~

The next night at Francine’s, most of Tom’s friends were there. Tom had laid claim to the pool table and seemed to be invincible as he defeated challenger after challenger. Genevieve, the current proprietor, made her way through the noisy throng. She waited until Tom completed his shot and then called for his attention.

“Tom. I almost forgot. A delivery for you arrived here this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Gen. Could you put in on our table? I’ll finish the game first.”

Jenny Delaney lined up and deliberately sank the eight ball. “Oops! You win, Tom. Let’s go see what’s in the parcel. Well, I was going to lose anyway, I just speeded things up.” She laughed as she led the way back to their table.

Tom turned the beautifully wrapped oblong package over in his hands. The silver and black packaging gave no clue as to its contents. There was no card, but Tom had no doubt as to the identity of the sender. Going by the teasing comments of his friends, they also were convinced it was from Tom’s husband. Flowers last night, several messages, including a poem, sent to his computer, and now this. There was no way he was going to be able to get away without unwrapping it here and now.

He placed a polished ebony box with a small inlaid panel in front of him where everyone could see. With a fair amount of trepidation, he touched the panel. A twelve-inch holo of Chakotay formed and to the sound of a piano, a husky voice began to croon a love song.

The girls exclaimed in delight over the singing hologram. Harry’s sharp eyes noticed something and when the song ended and the holo fuzzed out, he tapped Tom’s arm.

“What’s with Chakky’s tattoo?”

Tom had given up trying to stop Harry, B’Elanna and the twins from referring to Chakotay as Chakky. The more he’d protested, the more they had continued, so he resorted to responding with a formality worthy of the admiral.

“Chakotay has chosen to honor the customs of his people by wearing the mark that signifies an important change has taken place in his life.”

Harry nodded respectfully and the teasing stopped. Tom turned away and caught Gerron’s black eyes staring at him. He felt a little better when Gerron smiled. He hustled back to the pool table, collecting Mariah Henley for a partner and challenging B’Elanna and Ken Dalby to a match. 

Half an hour later, Tom collected his singing hologram and left. For some reason he no longer felt like the company of his friends. He just wanted to go home.

Back at the apartment, he placed the holocube on the dining table. He sat down and rested his chin on his folded arms. He looked at the latest gift from his husband and sighed deeply. The flowers were in the bedroom, along with a PADD his mother had given him, entitled _Floriography: The Language of Flowers_. He activated the holo and listened to the words, trying not to wish they really were for him.

The computer terminal chirped, indicating an incoming personal communication. It chirped again, and he dragged himself from the chair. He wandered moodily over to the console and activated it. It was Chakotay.

“I told you I’d be out tonight.” The words came out grumpier than Tom intended, but he was still in the grips of the fit of the doldrums.

“Gerron let me know you’d left,” said Chakotay soothingly.

“Keeping tabs on me, are you?”

Chakotay had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable, but he neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. “I want to invite you to dinner tomorrow, before you get another offer.”

“I can’t go out with you. You’re not on the planet, or had you forgotten?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten. I don’t want to go out. I thought I’d bring the meal to your place and we could eat together there.” Chakotay produced the expression that never failed to move his mother. Dimples and big brown eyes that shamelessly pleaded had the desired effect and Tom found he had forgotten his resolutions not to spend time alone with Chakotay and agreed to dinner.

“I…uh…thank you for the singing hologram,” Tom got out in a rush, “but you don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to get anything?”

“Just yourself – husband,” and Chakotay ended the transmission with a smile.

 

~

Tom woke early. Tangled bedclothes were evidence of a restless night. He decided to go for a run in the park. He found he’d missed running the previous two days. It was a good time to think, uninterrupted by other concerns. He mulled over various possibilities in his mind. Chakotay was obviously determined to take advantage of the situation and claim his ‘husbandly rights’ and suddenly Tom didn’t mind. If he was only going to get this chance to sleep with the man before he left Earth and Tom’s life, then he would take it. It wasn’t like it was going to be any hardship. Also by making this decision whilst sober and unhampered by emotions, he hoped it would protect his heart. It would be just like any of his other ‘love-’em-and-leave-’em’ flings. He would do Chakotay the courtesy of telling him he would be ‘killed off’ as he'd particularly made a point of mentioning he didn’t want that to happen. It would be just a matter of deciding whether it would take place before or after his twenty-fifth birthday, and he thought he could afford to think about it at a later date.

Feeling happier now that he’d decided on a course of action, he sped up from the slow jog he’d lapsed into, and ran for a while longer while he concentrated on enjoying the colorful flowers growing in the well-maintained garden beds and varied trees that provided homes for a number of different species of birds.

Once back at the apartment, he wolfed down several slices of toast and a glass of juice as well as coffee, and then flung himself into a frenzy of cleaning. The kitchen and living room were quickly taken care of. He brought the flowers out from the bedroom and arranged them on a small side-table. He remade the bed, and with an eye to his own ‘Studs’ pose, chose a pair of black satin sheets he’d purchased as a prop for when his friends came over. He checked the contents of the side tables; needlessly as he hadn’t used anything since coming to the apartment, but he took the opportunity to tidy things up and make sure the containers of lube were handy.

It was mid-afternoon by the time he finished with the bathroom. Everything was spotless. Clean towels were laid out in abundance and there was plenty of soap. Tom took some time out to eat something when his stomach rumbled loudly for the third time in as many minutes. Not wanting to mess up the kitchen, he contented himself with a replicated sandwich and coffee and then stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes for a few minutes. 

Several hours later, he awoke with a start. He swore loudly when he found Chakotay would be arriving in less than an hour. He took himself into the bathroom where he had a much shorter shower than he’d planned. He shaved carefully and then spent an agonizing five minutes deciding what to wear. The soft grey shirt was a favorite and went well with black jeans. He slid his bare feet into a pair of black slip-on shoes. Checking the mirror once more, he fiddled with his hair and grinned in a macabre fashion as he examined his teeth. He cursed his display of nerves. 

Back in the living room, he checked the time. If Chakotay arrived punctually, Tom had just ten minutes to set the table and position himself on the sofa, so that when the door chimed, he could rise calmly and collectedly, and not appear in the least flustered when he opened the door.

Sure enough, the door chimed right on time. A couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves and Tom opened the door. Chakotay carried a cooler in one hand and a largish box balanced on his opposite hip. Tom was intrigued. He reached out to relieve Chakotay of the box, but he refused to give it up, saying he would take the things straight to the kitchen.

With the cooler on the floor and the box on the bench, Tom had the opportunity to check out what Chakotay was wearing. The forest green shirt with a subtle black and gold pattern woven into the material was a good contrast to snug fitting clay-colored pants. 

“Do you need any help?” he offered as he watched Chakotay take out a number of containers and begin to arrange the already prepared food on a platter.

“You could pour the wine,” answered Chakotay, and stopped what he was doing to remove a bottle from the cooler.

Tom read the label and selected a pair of glasses from the cupboard. By the time he’d poured the drinks, Chakotay had finished and taken the filled plate to the coffee table. A selection of marinated and raw vegetables and crackers were arranged aesthetically around a divided bowl containing several different dips. Chakotay had taken a seat on one side of the sofa and waited to see whether Tom would join him or sit opposite. With an enigmatic smile, Tom took his place on one of the single chairs facing Chakotay. He handed over the other man’s glass of wine and took a sip of his own.

“So…” Tom chose a mushroom and bit it in half. He savored the flavor that woke his taste buds and made them scream for more. “’s good.” He popped the remainder of the delicacy into his mouth and simply enjoyed.

Conversation soon flourished as the men sampled their way through the appetizers. Chakotay talked about some of the strange people he’d met while lecturing. He didn’t mention anything about his government job. Tom didn’t ask. Everyone was entitled to their secrets. He stuck to anecdotes from some of his more unusual piloting jobs.

Eventually, Chakotay asked if Tom were ready for the main course. Everything had been prepared in advance so it would take only a little over twenty minutes to finish cooking. Tom nodded and joined him at the kitchen bench. The air soon filled with the aroma of a spicy risotto. Tom took Chakotay’s admission he was vegetarian in his stride. He was more interested in following the recipe. He missed Rose’s home-cooked meals more than he’d thought possible and had been trying his hand at cooking for himself.

Over dinner the conversation took a more personal turn as Tom found himself inveigled into giving details about some of his more colorful exploits that Chakotay had read about, and a couple of unpublished episodes that the twins had shared with Gerron, who in turn had regaled Chakotay.

“Weren’t you worried about someone seeing you?”

“That’s all part of the thrill.”

“But opening night at the opera?”

“We were in the family box because Dad and Mom were off world at the time, which made it a lot less risky than it sounds. If anyone did see or hear anything, they never mentioned it to the twins or me, and believe me, they would have, or at least made sure it got back to us.”

Chakotay eyed the last few salad leaves that were beginning to wilt. Half a roll remained in a sea of crumbs and his and Tom’s plates were empty. He pushed his chair back and began to clear the table. Tom helped and they worked in a companionable silence.

“Dessert in a while, then?” asked Chakotay.

“What have you got planned?”

“Just some fresh fruit.”

“Later is fine.” Tom refilled their wine glasses and strolled over to the glass doors that opened onto the balcony. “C’mon.” he opened them and stepped outside.

The night was mild. Being in the city, the stars were not so bright but the view over the park was pretty enough. They were far enough out into the suburbs that the soft music playing in the apartment was able to mask most of the usual city sounds. Tom waited with trepidation for Chakotay to make the first move, but he didn’t do anything other than stand close enough to Tom so that their bodies brushed seemingly accidentally with any little change in position. They remained there, talking in a desultory fashion until a breeze cooled the temperature enough to make indoors a nicer place.

Back in the kitchen, Chakotay set out a clean platter and efficiently prepared a selection of fruit. A divided bowl contained cream, a soft cheese beaten with vanilla and brown sugar, chocolate sauce and a pale yellow passionfruit concoction that turned out to be pleasantly tart and a flavorsome contrast to the others. 

When Chakotay firmly patted the seat next to him, Tom joined him.

“We should talk more about this marriage of ours, I mean, mine,” said Tom.

Chakotay carefully chose a slice of apple and dipped it in the cream cheese. He tasted the dip first before biting the apple in half with a satisfying crunch. “Agreed. What would you like to start with?”

“Why are you doing this? Making it look real. Sending me stuff in front of my family that gives the impression you’re pining for me from afar – Mom told me what the flowers meant. How did you…And the hologram. My friends…But now you’re here with me and you shouldn’t be. What if someone sees you? I want control of my marriage back. I have to decide what the other Chakotay does so I can make the proper responses. You have to let me handle his life. So I need to know – how long are you going to be here?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve taken a month’s leave and I have more time owing.”

“You can’t remain hidden away for a month. Maybe you should just leave and go somewhere else.”

This was no different to some of the undercover jobs he’d taken, and in fact it was proving a darn sight less stressful solely because there was no pressure at work.

“I don’t know, Tom. Maybe Chakotay gets a break from lecturing and he comes to visit you. I’d like to get to know your friends and family.”

“No. He’s not coming for a visit. That was the whole purpose of placing him where I did. He can’t come home right now. Anyway, I’ll be away tomorrow, and then for a few more days. I’ve taken another piloting job. I do that, you know.”

“I know,” said Chakotay in his best placatory voice, and pushed a strawberry between Tom’s lips. “I’m still not planning on leaving just yet.”

Tom licked his lips. “Maybe I’ll just have to kill you – him - off sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t think you want to kill me – him - off just yet.” Chakotay lowered his voice another tone or two and ran another strawberry, this time dipped in chocolate, across Tom’s mouth. He pushed again when Tom opened his mouth and found his finger sucked in and gently caught between strong teeth for a moment before being released. He held Tom’s gaze with his own as he moved his finger to his own mouth and licked it briefly before blindly groping for another piece of fruit. “No.” He sucked a grape into his mouth and crushed it. He swallowed. “No. You definitely don’t want to kill me.”


	8. Trouble in Paradise

Tom checked the chronometer for what seemed like the hundredth time. In less than two hours, he would be back in San Francisco and Chakotay would be joining him at the apartment. His hands kept busy as he flew the cargo ship towards the space dock, but his mind switched to autopilot as he replayed the best bits of the previous weeks. 

His affair with Chakotay was now the highlight of his life. Except it wasn’t really an affair, because they were married, well, sort of, but it was a secret from his family and friends, who thought he was really married to his absent husband, ‘Chakotay’, and who were most impressed at how he was coping with his long distance marriage. Particularly his friends, who had never known Tom to go for so long without having sex. Except he wasn’t. And he couldn’t tell them. And he found he didn’t want to share the details with them as he’d done previously. He hadn't foreseen any of this when he planned his fake marriage. He sighed deeply, stopped thinking in circles and lost himself in his memories.

Just thinking about the fruit flavored kisses on the sofa during that first evening still had the power to make his mouth water and his blood flow south. He licked his lips, subconsciously searching for the taste of chocolate, mingled with strawberries and Chakotay. A chilled grape had warmed as they’d passed it back and forward until it ended up mashed between their teeth and cleaned away with eager tongues. They’d taken it in turns to feed one another, taking a long time over each delicious mouthful. The remnants of the fruit had remained behind when they’d finally made their way to the bedroom. 

Chakotay had stared at the matching pictures on the wall and raised an amused eyebrow at the black sheets on the bed, but when Tom had returned from the job he’d taken shortly after that night, a large parcel had been waiting for him. White covered cushions and a set of luxurious white sheets protected a framed print of the real Chakotay, staring sultrily at him from his bed of white. Tom took down his manipulated effort with Chayton’s body and placed it in the back of the wardrobe. He noticed the differences between the two men, but didn’t think anyone else would notice the new picture was not the same as the original.

The lights had stayed on that night, and most other nights they spent together as they were gratified to learn they each got pleasure from looking. It turned out Chakotay was just as enticing splayed out on black sheets as he was on white. 

Later, Tom had spent yet another day at Nova Holoprograms, again implying he had a short piloting job as his reason for his absence. He was becoming uncomfortable with the subterfuge. He found himself wanting to discuss his programs with his lover – his husband. He wanted to share his day, and he wanted Chakotay to do the same. He looked forward to their time together, and not just for the sex. He missed him when they were apart. He wondered if there was some way to leave his birthday ball early this weekend. He would much rather celebrate with Chakotay in private than with a large group of people. Sometimes it worried him he was becoming too used to the other man being in his life. 

That week he’d scored two blocks of time on the same day, thanks to a cancellation. With two hours to fill in between reservations, he’d wandered around the nearby market and spied an antique chevel mirror. The frame was a light oak that matched the furniture in the bedroom, and the carvings were not too dissimilar. The silver was spotted in a few places, hence its cheap price. Tom stared at his reflection, picturing himself naked, astride Chakotay, whose hands were touching him here and there and knew he had to have this mirror. Of course, he knew he could get a new one close to home at any time but there was something about this one, and before he could change his mind, he bought it and arranged to have it shipped home.

With the mirror angled carefully and Chakotay seated just so at the end of the bed, Tom had begun behind him, watching the reflection of his pale hands caressing the smooth bronze skin that gleamed faintly where the massage oil had not fully soaked in. He saw his fingers trace ribs, outline muscles, tease nipples. He stared as Chakotay’s fingers circled his erection, glided up and down for a few strokes, touched the head, and all the while, Chakotay stared back at the mirror-Tom watching him. He shivered, and rubbed his chest along Chakotay’s back, pressing in with his hips to create some friction for himself. As he bent his head to kiss the broad shoulder in front of him, he moved just enough to lose sight of their reflection in the narrow strip of glass. 

Wanting the visuals, he nuzzled back up toward that spot where the neck and shoulder met, then raised his eyes again and stared back into the face in the mirror, losing himself in the brown eyes that looked steadily back at him. His hands moved mindlessly, leaving his brain to register the changes in texture and the sounds of pleasure so his fingers would touch there some more, or do that again, as all the while he maintained eye contact with the equally intense gaze in the reflection.

Tom dragged himself away from his memory for a moment to concentrate on a course change. He shifted uncomfortably, aware his pants had grown tight. Still a little more than an hour to go and so he fell back into the eyes in the mirror.

Now Chakotay was further back on the bed, kneeling on his haunches. Tom was in front and together they watched him lower himself on to Chakotay. They looked at dark hands grasping pale hips, at taut thigh muscles contacting, at a heaving chest. They saw the sweat-sheened brow, the bloom of a rosy sexual flush and they saw Tom’s hand wrapped around his erection being joined by Chakotay’s. Always they returned to each other’s eyes, as their other senses felt and heard and smelt and tasted their passion while they kept watching the erotic scene in the mirror.

~

Chakotay fidgeted around the living room. He was not in the mood to meditate. Tom should be back soon and he longed to see him. He wanted to be waiting at the transport depot when Tom beamed down from the spacedock. He wanted to take him out, wine and dine him, dance with him. He wanted to hear every last detail about what Tom had done while he was away, and he wanted to be free to work and share his day with Tom.

He was feeling truly uncomfortable with the secrets he’d kept from Tom, and now hoped that if he were honest with Tom, then Tom would reciprocate, and tell Chakotay exactly what he was involved with. Chakotay was still unable to break into Tom’s encrypted files. Admittedly, he had not tried as hard over the previous weeks, but he was worried. Tom’s lifestyle fit that of someone involved in something illegal. He knew Tom’s allowance had ceased upon his marriage, but freelance piloting at the rate Tom took jobs would hardly bring in enough credits to keep him in food and clothing, let alone pay for the upkeep of his apartment and provide for the active social life he kept.

The computer signaled an incoming personal call was waiting and Chakotay couldn’t keep the hopeful smile from his face as he strode over to answer it. It was Tom; he’d picked up Chinese on his way home, if Chakotay would like to come over. Chakotay barely took time to greet Tom before accepting and leaving a message for Gerron before hurrying away.

The Chinese food was forgotten as the men practically flew into one another’s arms the moment Tom opened the door. They parted briefly to draw breath and look sheepishly at one another as the open display of emotion hit home. 

“Food?” Tom offered.

“Later.”

More than happy with that response, Tom tugged Chakotay into the bedroom. Clothes landed where they fell and when they were naked, Tom wasted no time sinking to his knees. He had the satisfaction of feeling Chakotay’s cock thicken and harden as he stroked with his hands and his tongue. He was vaguely aware of hands threading through his hair, carding the waves smooth until they tangled convulsively when he swirled around the tip and tongued the slit. 

~

Much later Tom sighed contentedly and hugged Chakotay once more before he rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom. He took care of the clean up for both of them and prepared to snuggle back into bed, but he at the last minute he ignored Chakotay’s outstretched arms and darted into the wardrobe where he scrabbled around until he found what he was looking for. 

With one hand behind his back, he knelt next to Chakotay and picked up his left hand in the other.

“I know it’s not a real marriage, but I got this at the same time I got mine. I…I’d like you to have it.” For a moment, the words ‘I love you’ had almost escaped, but Tom spoke quickly to cover up his lapse. “You can swap fingers later if you want to.” He slid the plain gold ring onto Chakotay’s fourth finger and kissed it, as Chakotay was wont to do with Tom’s. It fitted perfectly.

“I…thank you, Tom. I…I just…just thank you.” Chakotay didn’t know what to say, so he held out his arms again and hugged Tom for all he was worth. It made him even more determined to speak up and tell Tom the truth in the morning.

~

A narrow band of sunlight lit Tom’s face as he rolled over. He stretched out a hand only to encounter empty space. He became aware of noises in the kitchen and a smile curved his lips. He kept his eyes shut for a while longer, simply enjoying the short time between sleep and full wakefulness where the bed was warm and cozy and the remnants of good dreams were still within grasp. Eventually he stretched and eased into a more vertical position. The need for the bathroom outweighed the need for coffee. While there, he took a quick shower and then pulled on clean clothes before joining Chakotay.

The leftovers of the Chinese food that they had finally late in the night had been cleared and the table set for the hearty breakfast Chakotay prepared. When they were done, they took their coffee over to the sofa to drink while they made plans for the next few days.

Finally Chakotay placed his empty cup on the table and cleared his throat. 

“Tom, we need to talk.”

Tom looked intently at Chakotay. He’d been on the receiving end of too many things he didn’t like hearing that began that way.

“I thought we were talking,” he joked weakly. His insides felt cold.

“I’ve never told you what my regular job involves, have I? I think the time has come for you to know.” 

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to have any secrets from you.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Chakotay,” said Tom urgently. “I don’t need to know your secrets.” Oh fuck, he thought, he’s going to want to know mine, and I can’t tell him. He can’t find out about Gene Barrett. 

“It’s okay, Tom. Really. I don’t mind. I work as a recovery agent, retrieving sensitive information and sometimes people who are found to be in the possession of things or knowledge they shouldn’t. I deal primarily with espionage. Sometimes that involves going undercover in one place or following a computer trail. Sometimes it means actually chasing people over half of the galaxy to catch them, which is what I was doing before I met you.”

Tom nodded warily. So far, so good, but he knew the ax would fall sooner or later.

“I caught the person I’d been trailing for several months. Gerron and I went out to celebrate. We chose a place called The Piano Bar.” Chakotay took a deep breath. “We sat in the back corner. A group of people celebrating something caught my eye. There was one man in particular – tall, blond, sexy…Gerron saw I was attracted to him and offered to find out something about him, to see if he was with anyone before I approached him myself. I didn’t know what to do when Gerron told me his name was Tom Paris and he was celebrating his marriage to me, or at least someone with my name, which I couldn’t believe possible. I didn’t want to make a scene or upset the celebration so I left. Tom, I used all the resources my job could provide to find out about you. I didn’t tell you I already knew everything you told me about the Paris Legacy. I knew about your family, your aborted career with Starfleet, the Monean incident.” He paused, waiting for Tom to say something. When Tom’s only response was another wordless nod, Chakotay continued. The next bit would be the most difficult. “I hacked into your computer.”

A choking cry from Tom interrupted him.

“It’s my job, Tom.”

“I wasn’t your job. You had no right.”

“No, you weren’t my job, but I was looking for clues as to who stole my identity. It didn’t occur to me that what you did was purely fictitious. I didn’t know you then. I was looking out for myself. Your encryptions are the best I’ve come across, by the way. I still haven’t been able to get through them.” 

Tom’s hurt expression vanished and was replaced by one of cold fury.

“You’re still trying?” He flung the accusatory shards straight back at Chakotay. “After everything we’ve shared, you’re still trying? Get out, Chakotay. Just leave. Now.”

“You have to understand, Tom. I was worried. Certain things didn’t add up. Your lifestyle, this apartment. Your allowance was cut off when you _married_. There’s no way for someone who freelances as a pilot to afford this. It practically screams of illegality. I wanted to make sure you were not involved in something.”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“It’s not that, Tom…”

“You didn’t trust me. You didn’t even ask me. You just invaded my privacy.”

“If I’d asked, would you have told me?”

Tom’s silence gave Chakotay his answer.

“Well?” he asked, giving Tom a chance to explain.

“Just go, Chakotay. I would appreciate you continued silence about our _marriage_ for the time being. I’ll find some way to dissolve it and let you know so you can have your life back. In fact, tell Gerron to leave contact details with me. I’ll tell him and he can pass the message on.”

“Please, Tom…” said Chakotay softly. 

“My life is None. Of. Your. Business.”

Tom turned his back and strode over to the window, where he remained steadfastly staring at the view until Chakotay left.

~

Later that evening…

“Hey, Tom! Glad you could make it.” Harry waved Tom into the vacant seat next to him. “We’re making plans. Henderson’s Holosuites has announced its newest selection of programs. The next episode of ‘The Adventures of Captain Proton’ is out.”

“It’s called ‘Captain Proton and the Twin Mistresses of Evil’,” chimed in Jenny. “There are a lot of parts. We’re thinking of booking a couple of hours and going to play all together.”

“If we go on Wednesday Mariah’s free to play Constance Goodheart, Ayala’s willing to be Satan’s Robot again and Gerron will have a go at Lonzak. You remember he was thought to have perished in the Den of Crocodiles? Well, he didn’t. The Mistresses of Evil, Malacia and Demonica – that’s us – have apparently rescued him. We need the best Captain Proton to be with Buster Kincaid. It looks fun. What do you say? You’ll be free to play, won’t you?” said Megan persuasively.

Tom figured all of his nights would be free now after his row with Chakotay. He pondered on the irony of the situation. Great sex, and then the row. Getting married then meeting one’s husband. The only thing he got in the right order was the breakup. 

“Tom?” Megan waved her hand in front of his face.

“Sorry.” He laughed awkwardly. He felt a trifle uncomfortable that his friends didn’t know it was his program they were playing. He was due to write the next chapter of what was arguably one of his most popular programs. He found when he played with the others he got some of his better ideas for future plot lines, so he agreed with alacrity, and tried to hide his unhappiness by being the life of the party as the old, single Tom had been.

He managed to get Gerron alone and making sure they couldn’t be overheard, asked him if Chakotay had said anything about him to Gerron.

Gerron shook his head. “Why?”

“We…um…we had a row. I ended things between us and kicked him out. Could you please…keep an eye on him? It’s hard for him, having to keep out of sight, you know. I just…I just want to make sure he’s all right.”

Gerron looked at Tom, assessing him carefully. His black eyes saw a lot more than either man gave him credit. He thought they should just admit they loved one another and get married for real. He wondered what they’d fought about. He hoped they would sort it out soon. He nodded once. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll be prepared. Is there anything I can do to help?” he offered diffidently.

“No. Just make sure he eats and stuff, you know. He’ll probably want to organize things to leave here soon.”

“I’m a good listener if you need to talk, Tom. I can hold my tongue if you’d like to tell me anything. It might help me not to say the wrong thing to Chakotay.”

“No. I’m sorry, Gerron. I can’t say anything, except it was all my fault and I’m beginning to think I made a mistake. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”

Tom’s distress was palpable. Gerron decided to take a chance.

“You really do love him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Tom softly after a pause. “I’m an idiot, I know, but I actually fell in love with him. You can’t tell him, Gerron. I’m going to kill off the fake Chakotay so he’ll get his life back. It will be reported in the media, no doubt, but there should be no problem keeping the announcement discreet, same as with the wedding. It will have to be some time after the ball Mom has organized – oh god, that’s this weekend - I won’t wreck that for her. I’ll tell you and you can let him know.”

“What about you, Tom? What about the Legacy?”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll get over him eventually. As for the Legacy – right now I don’t give a fuck. It’s been responsible for this whole thing in the first place. I’m not going to think about it for now. I’ll just get through the weekend first.”

“Very well, just remember I’m available to listen and that unlike Harry and B’Elanna, I already know about Chakotay.”

Tom offered a small smile. “Thanks, Gerron. I’ll think about it, okay? Now let’s get back to the others.”

Gerron frowned thoughtfully as he followed Tom back to their table. He had an idea. He needed to talk to Chakotay first to make sure he was on the right track, and hopefully Chakotay would see the merits in his plan.


	9. Happy Birthday, Tom

Tom swung Jenny Delaney around the floor in a vigorous nuevo waltz. She and Megan seemed more hyped up than usual. They did not seem to be overly intoxicated, a good thing considering the presence of Admiral Delaney and his wife, but they were certainly high spirited. The music came to an end and the band announced a break, so he led Jenny back to the corner of the room his friends had claimed as their own.

He took the time to appreciate the trouble his mother and Rose had gone to, especially as he didn’t feel in the least like partying. He had not laid eyes on Chakotay since their row, and Gerron had been non-communicative as well. Even tonight he had mostly stayed out of Tom’s way, saying he’d catch up with him later in the evening and they could talk then. All Tom knew was Chakotay had not left the planet yet. He glanced round at the decorations. A plethora of streamers and balloons in blue and silver hung from the various fittings in the ball room. Variegated tulips made up a good proportion of the floral arrangements. The talents of one of the popular five piece function bands had been secured. They played a good selection of music that was guaranteed to suit the variety of age groups represented and Tom had managed to get nearly all of his duty dances out of the way early. 

The buffet was a masterpiece of tempting savory and sweet dishes. There was no sign of the obligatory birthday cake and Tom was secretly worried that a wedding cake would make an appearance instead. He had been unable to wheedle any of the details for the celebrations from Rose. He had not realized his mother had added to the invitations and in effect she combined his birthday with a wedding reception so the wedding gifts that the guests brought had taken him by surprise. He also hadn’t realized how guilty accepting them would make him feel. Unfortunately he had to smile and thank everyone while he wondered about the etiquette involved in returning them. He came to the conclusion that as a widower, even if Chakotay ‘died’ as early as next week, he would probably have to keep them. He felt even worse when a number of people gave him wedding and birthday gifts. He called on every ounce of training he’d received from a young age to present himself as a credit to the Paris name, and not one person realized his smile was pasted on, and his impeccable manners hid a stomach that was knotted so tightly he doubted he’d be able to eat anything.

One thing that had pleased him was the absence of many of the prospective spouses his parents had originally planned to invite. There were still a fair number of his father’s cronies present, huddled together near where the drinks were located and talking shop as usual. His mother was currently surrounded by a bevy of Fleet wives although she was the perfect hostess and spent time chatting to all of the guests. He’d spotted her dancing with Harry earlier – the two of them had had their heads close as they talked earnestly throughout their dance. He wondered briefly what the two of them had discussed; knowing them both it was probably his marriage.

His sisters waved him over. Kathleen came straight to the point.

“Mom said we’re not to tease you as you’re missing him badly. We can’t see why he couldn’t have wheedled some time off to be here, but anyway, we have an idea. We want a copy of Chakotay’s itinerary.”

“Why?” asked Tom warily.

“Jonathan and Robert both have holidays coming up. The four of us had planned to take ten days and go somewhere. We’ve decided that since Chakotay can’t get here, we’ll go to him. We’ll just pick one of the planets he’ll be visiting during the time we plan to be away and we’ll take our holiday there. It will be nice for him to meet some of the family. You know Mom and Dad are thinking of doing the same thing, but at a different time to us. They’ll be minding the children as we’ve decided to make it an ‘adults only’ break.”

“You should come too,” added Moira.

Jonathan added his endorsement of the plan. Robert nodded silently. He was a man of few words. He was quite fond of his young brother-in-law and shared his interest in programming.

Tom’s insides churned. Everything was catching up with him. He wondered why he ever thought such a daft plan would work. For a moment, even a future with Kathryn Janeway looked good. She was present tonight, looking unexpectedly attractive in a pale blue dress that hugged her figure. The power bun of her Fleet photograph had been styled in a topknot of loose curls making her look younger and less hard.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should get in contact with him first and find out if he has any time when he’s not as heavily booked. You know, it would be awful if you rolled up at one of his busiest times and he couldn’t meet with you.” Tom thought his ability to produce believable lies was improving exponentially when his sisters agreed with him and didn’t argue. In fact, they praised him for his thoughtfulness, and teased him about how much even a long-distance marriage had matured him.

He was still with his siblings when the band took up their instruments again.

“Come on, Tommy,” said Kathleen. “We didn’t get to dance with you at your wedding, so this will have to do.” She pulled him onto the floor and hugged him briefly before surrendering the lead and allowing him to twirl her around the floor.

Moira hugged Tom tightly as well. She looked carefully at him as they danced more slowly. “If you want to talk any time, if things get to overwhelming for you, you know I’ll be there for you, don’t you, Tom?”

“I’m fine, Moira.” Tom frowned as the words came out more sharply than he intended. “Really, everything is all right.”

“Sure. I’m just reminding you. You always shared your secrets with me when you were little.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

The song came to an end and Tom and Moira found themselves in the middle of the floor next to Harry and Miriam, who were dancing together again. Tom opened his mouth to say something but kept quiet as Harry had greeted Moira, whom he had met several times, and asked her to dance, while Miriam gently reproached Tom for not yet dancing with her.

“Mo-om. I thought the ‘birthday dance’ after the cake cutting was reserved for you.”

“Oh no, that would be.” Miriam stopped herself and continued quickly, “That’s all right, Tommy. Come on. This is one of my favorite songs and it’s only right you should dance this one with me. Your father won’t dance much anymore.”

Harry and Moira had already shuffled away and the other dancers circled past them as they stood, so Tom took his mother in his arms and they moved slowly around the floor. 

For once, his mother remained quiet, content simply to hold on to her tall son. She looked up at him and caught him staring solemnly down at her. She thought he looked as though he carried the cares of the world upon his shoulders instead of being a young man who should be enjoying his birthday celebrations. She smiled as she thought how all that would change soon. She winked at him and was gratified to see him smile in return.

“I love you, Mom. Thanks for all you’ve done tonight.”

“I love you too, Tommy. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah,” Tom thought for a moment. If he ignored everything that had anything to do with Chakotay, he supposed he was kind of enjoying himself, and he wouldn’t hurt his mother’s feelings by telling her the truth, that he’d rather be home alone. “Yes, Mom. It’s all really great.”

He suddenly noticed his mother was subtly herding him towards his father and she had maneuvered the two of them so she was facing the main part of the ballroom. He was about to make an effort to swing her around so he could see the main part of the room, when he became aware of a change in the atmosphere. The background noise had quieted for an instant and then the multitude of conversations had restarted but with higher-pitched overtones of excitement.

Miriam stopped moving all together and her eyes sparkled. She dropped her arms and stepped back towards Owen. “Tom,” she said with barely suppressed excitement, “Surprise! Happy birthday!” and she nodded for him to turn around.

Tom looked over his shoulder. The color drained from his face to be replaced by two red spots high on his cheeks.

“Chakotay,” he choked out. He scanned the room, looking for an escape, hoping he didn't look as hunted as he felt. His hands clenched into fists at his side. “Chakotay?” 

“Tom.” Chakotay strode towards him, his hands outstretched and a smile covering his face. He faltered, his smile faded and his hands dropped a little when Tom did not move. 

“I love you,” mouthed Chakotay. “It’s okay.”

“Go on, Tommy, what are you waiting for?” said his mother and she pushed him forward.

Tom stumbled, and then somehow ended up in his husband's arms. He opened his mouth to speak but the 'oh fuck', 'why' and 'how' never had the chance to be voiced as Chakotay pulled his head down and kissed him. After a moment, Tom kissed him back. A wolf whistle Tom dimly recognized as Harry’s started everyone cheering, but the sounds faded into the background along with all of Tom’s worries. Suddenly, he just knew everything would work itself out. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

The band struck up ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone joined in. At the last line, Chakotay pulled away and under cover of the traditional three cheers and applause which followed, he held Tom’s hands, placed his mouth close to Tom’s ear and said quietly,

“I love you. Will you marry me? For real, I mean?”

“But…?”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes. Yes, I love you, but…”

“Then marry me.”

It was Tom who pulled back this time. He looked into Chakotay’s eyes and broke into a smile. “Yes!” he said aloud and he initiated their next kiss to another round of cheers and catcalls. 

A harrumph from Admiral Paris, and a fondly embarrassed “Tom…Tommy?” from Miriam eventually penetrated Tom’s subconscious and reminded him where they were. 

“We have to talk,” he muttered to Chakotay, before turning to grin at his parents. He took Chakotay’s hand and pulled him over to them.

“Dad, Mom, this is Chakotay.”

Tom saw the introductions proceed satisfactorily and then briefly scanned the guests, who were talking excitedly amongst themselves as they watched the drama unfold. 

“Dad, Mom, it will take all night if I have to present Chakotay to everyone, and I’ll probably get someone’s seniority mixed up and they’ll be offended.”

“Actually, Tommy, we’ve got that all under control. Now, Owen,” said Miriam.

“Yes, Miriam.”

As Admiral Paris called for silence, Chakotay whispered to Tom, “Trust me.”

“As you know,” began Owen ponderously, “we have gathered here to celebrate the twenty-fourth birthday of our son, Thomas Eugene Paris. Moreover, as you are aware, several months ago he met a man, one Commander Chakotay of Dorvan V. He and Thomas fell in love and, in a move that surprised us all they eloped. I think some of us doubted the existence of this man, as we never had the chance to meet him until tonight. I’d like to thank those friends of Thomas who arranged for the commander to be amongst us, and to all of you who carefully kept the news of his presence a secret. As we all saw, his arrival here tonight was definitely a surprise for Thomas and so I am sure he will be very happy with what else has been organized for tonight’s celebrations.”

Tom, who had flushed, then paled at his father’s comments, flushed again, and turned to Chakotay once more, who moved even closer and squeezed Tom’s hand. Tom’s insides, which had calmed down when he was in Chakotay’s arms, suddenly felt as though he’d eaten something bad again.

“As you may have probably guessed, Thomas’ mother Miriam was especially disappointed at missing the wedding of her only son, so combining his birthday celebration with a wedding reception seemed an ideal compromise, even if one groom had to be absent. However, as Commander Chakotay has been able to grace us with his presence, we have arranged for you to share with us an extra special ceremony – the renewal of Thomas and Chakotay’s wedding vows.” Owen paused for a moment as a round of applause broke out. Caught up in his pontifications, he failed to notice the expression of horror that crossed Tom’s face. “Traditionally, a renewal of one’s wedding vows takes place many years after the wedding, and indeed, with the prevalence of marriage contracts that last only for a specific number of years, they have almost become a thing of the past.”

Tom didn’t hear any more. How could he renew a vow he’d never made in the first place? As Harry came up to join them, the meaning of his white tuxedo that was an identical style to Tom’s, and the earnest conversations he’d been having with Miriam became clear. Gerron, wearing a fashionable black shirt and bowtie with the white tuxedo, as was Chakotay, appeared at Chakotay’s side. 

Chakotay slid the ring Tom had given him from his finger and handed it to Harry. He glanced at Tom and realized he’d gone into some sort of shock. He lifted Tom’s hand. He paused for a moment as he looked at the ring. This time he would get to put it on Tom’s finger, and forgetting the audience, he raised Tom’s hand to his lips and kissed the ring as he’d done many times. Tom responded automatically with a light stroke of his fingertips over Chakotay’s tattoo and along his jaw, and then smiled tremulously as he came back to himself. As Chakotay gave Tom’s ring to Gerron, he caught sight of Miriam dabbing her eyes. He grinned at her reassuringly so that his dimples appeared in full force and unwittingly gained for himself a permanent ally in his mother-in-law.

Owen’s speech finally drew to a close. Before the events could proceed any further, Chakotay spoke up, “If you’d all excuse us for just a minute, we haven’t seen each other for quite a while and we need to…talk…in private for a few minutes. Keep enjoying yourselves. We’ll be back.” 

His planned pauses got the laughs he intended and he hurried Tom across the length of the room and out into the hall without any opposition. Keeping hold of his hand, he drew him into a nearby room and firmly closed the door. Chakotay looked around in surprise when he realized they were in the bathroom, but they were here now and it would have to do. 

“Tom.”

“Chakotay.” 

They spoke at the same time.

“You first,” said Chakotay.

“I’m sorry. I lost my temper with you for all the wrong reasons. I shouldn’t have worried about you knowing my secrets and I should have realized you were protecting yourself and just doing your job.” Tom ran his hand through his hair. He wanted nothing more than to fling himself back into Chakotay’s arms but he knew they needed to talk.

“I could have been more tactful with how I told you what I was doing, and I could have stopped digging and waited for you to tell me in your own time. I have stopped, you know. I trust you.”

“I believe you. Anyway, you want to know how I make my money. I’ll tell you. I write holoprograms.”

“You write holoprograms,” Chakotay repeated slowly. “Forgive me, Tom, if I say I fail to see the need for such secrecy.”

“I…umm…don’t use my own name. Look, nobody knew until a couple of months ago when I finally told my parents, and that was hard enough. They are the only ones, other than my contract lawyer, who know my…er…secret identity. You have to understand, it’s been my secret for seven years, and when you keep a secret for so long, it isn’t easy to give up and I panicked when I thought you were going to find out. Umm, some of them are used at Starfleet Academy,” Tom dropped his eyes and flushed, “and I didn’t want anyone saying my programs were used because of the Paris family name. None of the others know, and they can’t, so now you know, you have to keep the secret too.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard, as you haven’t told me what name you’re using,” teased Chakotay gently. He placed his hand over Tom’s mouth. “You don’t have to reveal your ‘secret identity’ if it is all that important. There will be plenty of times in the future I won’t be able to share details of my work with you.”

“Gene Barrett,” blurted Tom as soon as Chakotay removed his hand.

Chakotay pursed his lips in a soundless whistle.

“Listen, we can talk about this in more detail later,” said Tom urgently. “We really need to talk about what’s going on out there. We can’t renew vows we haven’t made.”

“Actually, that’s what I was going to mention before we got sidetracked. The ceremony will be real. It’s Gerron’s idea. Once he knew you felt about me the same way I felt about you, he enlisted Harry’s help. Now nobody except for Gerron and the two of us know this will be the real thing. Harry recommended involving your mother, rather than springing it on her tonight. She of course fell in love with the idea of renewing our vows, as it was the next best thing to being at the wedding. I think, maybe twenty years in the future, it might be nice to actually tell your parents the truth. Anyway, the celebrant was told we found out our original wedding wasn’t legal, but we were too embarrassed to tell everyone, so we’re presenting it as a renewal, and we will sign the rest of the papers later. Gerron told Harry we were secretly disappointed they were not the witnesses the first time, so they will sign a ‘fake’ certificate with us as part of the ceremony. Are you okay with all that?”

“Yeah. Gerron is a genius. I love you. Let’s do it.”

They left the bathroom and paused at the entrance to the ballroom for another fortifying embrace. They straightened their cuffs, and then hand in hand, walked the gauntlet as the guests parted, forming an aisle to the top of the room, where an anxious group of family and the witnesses waited. The band nobly refrained from playing ‘Here Comes the Bride’, for which the Delaney twins had been arguing, and instead stuck with a suitable medley of classic love songs.

Chakotay had written the service and fifteen minutes later, he and Tom shared their first married kiss. 

Every few minutes in the midst of accepting congratulatory kisses and hugs, to the delight of the guests, they turned to briefly kiss or hug each other again. During one such moment Tom found time to murmur in Chakotay’s ear, “I’m so sorry none of your family could be present.”

“Actually, I have one, and he should be here somewhere. When Gerron found out he was on Earth, he organized an invitation. I think you’ll really want to meet him.”

Chakotay looked around, and spotting whom he was searching for, waved him forward. 

At the sight of the man squeezing through gaps in the crowd, Tom’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t help it. 

“Tom, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Chayton,” said Chakotay clearly, his voice carrying over buzz of conversation.

Tom’s gaze flickered over the man standing in front of him, taking in the dark hair bound in a neat club, twinkling brown eyes, bronze skin, with a forehead unmarked by any tattoo. He felt his hand shaken and returned the grip. He was suddenly disconcerted to feel his body begin to tighten and react in almost the same way it did to Chakotay. In alarm, he took a step closer to his husband.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chayton,” Tom choked out. He could feel Chakotay’s body shaking with restrained laughter.

“Likewise. Chakky here never mentioned you…”

“Chayton is here for, what did you say?” interrupted Chakotay smoothly, wondering what triggered coughing fits in Tom, Harry and Gerron. “And don’t call me Chakky.” He would have to divert Chayton away from any awkward conversational topics until he had a chance to get him alone. Luckily, the man would always talk about himself, and if they could find a suitable pretty woman to introduce him to, that would take care of things.

“I’m here for the revival in 4-D entertainment. I’m to star in an epic called ‘The Mystic Warrior’, with the option for several more roles.” Chayton spent several minutes going into detail and finally wound up with, “You’ll have to come to the premiere.” He searched the room and finally spotted who he was looking for. “Say, who is that in the blue dress? The one standing next to the tall blonde in white.”

Tom glanced over and identified Kathryn Janeway and Annika Hansen. “Harry, you’re the Best Man. Act like one and take Chayton over and introduce him.”

Within five minutes, Chayton had Kathryn at the buffet where he was filling a plate for her, whilst Annika had rejoined her aunt. 

“She doesn’t stand a chance. Chayton will have her eating out of his hand in no time,” remarked Chakotay to Tom. The two of them were keeping an unobtrusive eye on the couple.

“Nah,” said Tom confidently. “That’s Janeway. She’s my dad’s protégée, remember. She’ll keep him right under her thumb. Besides, she’ll be taking up her commission soon.”

“Perhaps she’d like a picture or two to keep in her quarters,” suggested Chakotay, amusement coloring his tone.

~

In the early hours of the morning, Tom and Chakotay finally escaped to the guest suite in the Paris residence. Tom raised tired fingers to his neck and picked at his bowtie. The rollercoaster of emotions he’d been through in the previous twelve hours, not to say the past week, finally caught up with him.

Chakotay gently moved Tom’s hands aside and tackled the complicated knot of material. In seconds, he dropped the scrap of white onto the floor. He slowly undid the buttons on Tom’s shirt, pushing the linen aside and tracing each inch of newly exposed skin with his fingers and then his lips.

A moan escaped Tom’s lips and he shuddered. He clutched Chakotay’s hips, stabilizing himself for the further onslaught on his senses. Chakotay’s breath was warm and Tom felt every individual bump of gooseflesh rise as it heated his skin before the wetness of his husband-in-fact’s mouth made contact. His tiredness left him and he didn’t want slow any longer. He bent his head and nipped at the tantalizing spot where neck and shoulder met.

Chakotay jerked and bit down on the flesh beneath his lips. A rumbling growl sounded deep in his throat and he straightened up. He grasped Tom’s shirt where the last few buttons were still done up and yanked the material apart. His nails scraped Tom’s arms as he pulled the shirt off. 

Tom’s wrists burned where his cufflinks prevented the sleeves coming off. 

“Stop!” He was as impatient as Chakotay for his skin to be bared, but he wanted the use of his hands and it would be faster if he dealt with the links himself. He got them undone and moved over to place them on the bedside table before hurrying back to Chakotay. 

Chakotay had used the time to remove his own shirt, shoes and socks, and was working on his pants.

In seconds, both were naked and lying tangled on the bed. Tom’s hands roamed over the smooth skin beneath him, stroking a bulky arm, pinching a hip, feeling the contrast between a lightly haired thigh and soft ass and all the while, kissing his husband like there was no tomorrow. He realized he was exactly where he wanted to be for the rest of his life.


	10. The Paris Legacy Revealed

Tom’s shoulder muscles threatened to cramp once more and he cautiously squirmed in his seat. Chakotay stirred as the movement caused his head to loll from side to side. Tom reached around and stroked the dark hair and Chakotay settled against him once more. They were currently passengers on an earthbound shuttle, having just spent three weeks together on Dorvan V. Tom was too keyed up to do more than intermittently doze. In twenty-four more hours, he would find out exactly what the Paris Legacy was. He thought back over the previous year.

Their first year of marriage had been an interesting exercise in logistics. Chakotay's job required him to spend long periods on Dorvan at the company headquarters. Tom was able to spend occasional amounts of time there with him as he could write his holoprograms anywhere. The times when Chakotay was by necessity off planet or just plain busy, Tom stayed on Earth and took advantage of the superior facilities at Nova Holoprograms to test the fruits of his labors. They were still working on the frustrations that were inherent in being involved with an absent partner and long distance marriage, but the reunion sex went a long way to making up for not seeing each other on a daily basis. 

During the year, many of Tom's friends had moved on too. Harry had eventually taken a post on one of the new Intrepid class vessels and was now to be away for many months at a time. Tom missed his friend, but they communicated regularly via subspace. The Delaney twins had surprised everyone by remaining on Risa in almost the exact positions in weather control Tom had predicted for them in his fictitious plans told to his parents over a year ago when he unwittingly set the events for his future in motion. Tabor resigned from Maquis Research and Development to join them. Gerron had surprised no one when he regretfully left his position as Chakotay’s personal assistant to go to Risa as well. 

Chakotay’s new assistant was a ferocious young woman whose gruff exterior masked the traditional heart of gold. She performed her job with android-like efficiency both on Dorvan and when traveling with Chakotay when he was on the move. She would continue to handle his business while Chakotay squeezed in a two-week vacation.

The captain’s voice announced they would be docking in twenty minutes, which disturbed his musings. Tom gently shook Chakotay awake. They were spending two nights in first class luxury in the city to celebrate Tom’s twenty-fifth birthday and their wedding anniversary, before returning to the apartment they maintained as their base on Earth.

~

The large suite spanned one quarter of the floor it occupied. The bedroom and bathroom both opened on to enclosed balconies that housed exotic greenery and water features. The kitchenette featured a state of the art replicator programmed with a wide selection of dishes from a multitude of cultures. 

Tom barely waited for the door to close to pull off his shoes. His feet sank into the carpet as he headed straight to the sofa. He curled his toes and rubbed his soles into the soft pile as he went. He let out an appreciative moan.

“You can thank Captain Proton for this,” he said. Three new chapters in the ongoing saga had been released during the previous year. “I’ve been planning another serial style program, but something a little different. What do you think about a law enforcement agent who travels through time? I’m thinking there could be a master criminal who for some reason is stuck where he is, untouchable by the law, and who finds a way to send criminals to other times to escape justice. There’s lots of scope for historical chapters or futuristic ones. People could play as the hero, the master criminal or the escaping criminals.”

“Sounds fun.” Chakotay removed his shoes as well, and went over to the replicator. “I could give you ideas for some crime scenarios. What do you fancy for lunch?”

“Better keep it fairly light. Rose will have planned something sumptuous for this evening. Soup will be fine.”

After they finished eating, Chakotay came around to stand behind Tom. He rubbed his shoulders for a few minutes, and then nuzzled into Tom’s neck, but Tom was still too on edge to relax into Chakotay’s hands. He turned down the suggestion of a bubble bath, a massage and anything else, so they spent several hours walking and enjoying the sights around the bay before returning to their rooms to ready themselves for the evening ahead. 

~

Rose had indeed performed miracles in the kitchen. Tasty dishes with vegetarian versions would have fed a dozen people instead of the four that were present. The ample leftovers were for Tom and Chakotay to take home with them so neither would need to cook for several nights. Tom would see his sisters and their families on the following weekend. The Legacy did not concern them and the instructions were clear; only Owen, Tom and his spouse were to be present. Miriam could decide for herself whether to attend with them. She had been with Owen when it was his turn for the revelation so she had decided to let the men be there without her presence.

The Paris Legacy was carefully ignored as a conversation topic over dinner, but Tom's mounting anxiety was visible to everyone. Miriam said little as she excused herself after they had enjoyed the coffee that finished their meal. She was not entirely sure how Tom would respond to learning the family secret. His dislike of being told what to do, of being organized or pigeonholed was legend, however she trusted Chakotay would be able to deal with him. 

Owen led Tom and Chakotay into the library. He locked the door and then drew the curtains. Tom and Chakotay exchanged glances. 

“Over here,” Owen said and waved them to the window seat. He did something, although neither man could clearly see his actions. A grating noise sounded loudly in the quiet room.

“What the?” Tom bit back an exclamation. One panel of the wooden seat slid back and revealed a small space. A metal lever was set into the back wall.

“I’ll show you properly how it works later. Your sisters know nothing of this. The only people you will ever show will be your son and his spouse on his twenty-fifth birthday. It's a condition of the Legacy.” Owen turned the lever and then raised the window seat. Instead of the flat wooden base Tom had expected, a gaping hole revealed a narrow staircase. 

Leaving Tom and Chakotay to examine the hidden passageway for a moment, Owen retrieved a couple of wrist lights. Strapping his on, he turned and grinned. “Come on, follow me.”

They descended quite a way. Chakotay worked out they were below the basement level of the house and followed a stone-lined passage for twenty yards. Tom was fascinated. He marveled at how the passage had escaped discovery by a curious small boy and his sisters all those years ago, but he remembered the library had been off-limits until their teens. A door with no obvious way to open it barred their way. Owen shone his wrist light to the side where it illuminated a featureless panel. He pressed his palm against it and after a few seconds, the door slid open. 

Lights automatically came on. The men switched off their wrist lights and entered. An octagonal console dominated the centre of the room. A myriad of small screens covered seven-eighths of the surface. A blank rectangular panel was the only thing on the side that faced the door. Owen walked over and again placed his palm on the panel.

“Owen David Paris.” A male voice identified Owen and a hologram appeared.

Chakotay nudged Tom. “Obviously a Paris,” he whispered. The collection of photons had formed a tall, fair young man who could have been a cousin of Tom’s.

“Owen, if you would please state the date for the record.” 

Owen gave the current stardate. 

The hologram spoke again. “If there have been no temporal incursions, this means you, Owen, are here with your son, Thomas and his husband, Chakotay. If this is not the case, Owen, you need to touch the blue panel to the left that is now flashing.” There was a pause and the hologram continued, “As you have not activated the emergency program, once again the path towards fulfilling the Paris Legacy remains unbroken. Thomas, please place your palm on the front panel and state your full name.”

Tom immediately placed his hands behind his back. “Why?” he asked suspiciously. Watching his father, the straight-laced admiral, participate in a ritual that would have been right at home in a Captain Proton episode was bizarre. 

“Thomas. Place your hand on that panel now.”

“Dad, I'm twenty-five, not five. I have a right to know why I should do this. How do I know it's safe?”

“You're still just as stubborn as you were at five. You watched me do it. Of course it's safe.”

“Thomas, please place your hand on the front panel and state your full name.” The hologram repeated its instructions. After a pause, it added, “The purpose is for confirmation of identification, now and in the future.”

Tom's eyes narrowed but he complied. The "Thomas Eugene Paris" was loud and the belligerence ill-concealed.

Chakotay tried to hide a smile, but gave up when he caught Owen smiling openly; Tom really had sounded childish.

“Welcome, Thomas. My name is Jayar Paris. This recording was made in 2788, when the Paris Legacy as it is known was set up. In my time, we battle a great evil. Four scientists developed a device to counteract the problem, but the time is not right to deploy it. In order to protect it from theft, misuse or destruction, it was decided to hide it in the past. The responsibility of guardianship, or geis if you will, was eventually laid upon one of the scientists, the only one whose family line was unbroken for many centuries. The Paris family could be traced back to the twentieth century. Upon examination, we found that each generation produced a male who survived past his twenty-fifth birthday long enough to raise a son who also survived in the same manner, and the idea of the Legacy was born.”

Tom pulled a face. It was all just one of those temporal loop things. He’d almost rather have been told he was an hereditary vampire. He ran his tongue over his teeth. He would not have been averse to sinking a pair of sharp canines into Chakotay's neck or anywhere else for that matter. The femoral artery was also a good place, and puncture marks in somebody's groin were not accidentally going to attract attention. Adjusting to staying out of sunlight and the whole coffin thing would have been interesting too. When he started to consider double coffins, he shook himself out of the fantasy and tuned back into the hologram's explanation.

“We debated for many hours about the best way to keep it safe over such a long period of time.”

Tom tuned back out again. He wasn’t sure that he liked the whole predetermined fate idea. His father would have been pressing that blue button if Tom had given in on the whole marriage idea and been standing here with, say, Kathryn Janeway, or Sean Hawk. Hell, he would never have thought up an imaginary husband who turned out to be the real Chakotay if his father hadn’t pushed him about the Legacy. But this hologram addressed Chakotay by name, and according to Jayar, his family history said he had married Chakotay. If he had chosen a different stud from Susie's stable, he would have used a different name for his fictitious husband and he would never have met Chakotay. Either simple different decision would have altered history. This was worse than the hoary 'if you came back in time and killed your grandfather' paradox. He rubbed between his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache. 

Chakotay on the other hand was fascinated. He believed in destiny and was delighted to learn he and Tom had been fated to be together. He thought he should find out if there was a Paris family diary, as he was sure the story of how he and Tom got together would make interesting reading for future generations. He also honed in on one fact that Tom apparently had not taken in; some time in the future they were going to be parents to a son.

Jayar finally stopped speaking. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah. Can we see this weapon that we have to guard?”

“The device is sealed behind a space-time sensitive lock, but this is a holographic representation.” Jayar gestured and a large crystal materialized beside him. It was fully thirty inches tall. Etchings were visible on a number of the faceted surfaces. “Upon activation, it will neutralize the enemy's weapon, by which they plan to rewrite time and space. I cannot let you examine the real thing. Your time is not ready for this.”

“So, what happens now?”

“Nothing, Thomas. The timeline remains true. The Legacy continues. You will bring your son here before his first birthday for introduction and initial identification. You will then ensure your son comes here on his twenty-fifth birthday. If at either time your family details – including his name, the stardate and his genetic identification - do not match exactly with mine, or I give him a different name for his spouse you will activate the emergency program.”

“But what do we say if anyone asks about the Legacy? People talk. Its existence is not a secret.”

“You will continue as your family has always done. You will say little, and turn the attention of those who question in another direction. The Paris family wealth has a way of ensuing discretion.”

“But why all the secrecy within the family? Why not just explain the guardianship to the children when they are old enough to understand?”

“A fair question and one that has been asked before. Children cannot always keep secrets, nor do they need to be overwhelmed with the responsibility of keeping it throughout their sometimes-difficult youth. Paris males have a tendency to behave like ruffians to the despair of their parents.” Jayar paused and grinned knowingly before continuing, “And again, the fact that history showed all of the eldest male Paris heirs married before their twenty-fifth birthday made twenty-five a logical choice.”

Tom opened his mouth and then closed it abruptly. It was pointless questioning the hologram any further. He turned and took a few steps toward the door. Almost as an afterthought, he looked back.

“May we leave now?”

“Yes, Thomas. Our business here is done. I will see you in the future.” Jayar blinked out of existence.

Tom led the way back to the library. When all three men were standing by the window seat, he spoke to his father.

“You’d better show us how this contraption works.”

When Tom and Chakotay had successfully opened and closed the secret door, Owen opened the curtains and unlocked the door. 

“Tom.” Owen hesitated. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say. At twenty-five, he’d been incredibly angry with his own father, and resented finding out that his arranged marriage had apparently been destined. Time, love and a family of his own, as well as his success in his Starfleet career, had tempered his anger and he’d mended his bridges with his father and accepted his fate as a guardian by the time Tom was born. He been able to smother any guilt he’d felt at trying to arrange a marriage for Tom by thinking about how well his own had succeeded.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m not mad at you, not really. It just takes some processing. I need some time to think about it, okay?”

“If you need to talk…” 

“Maybe later. We’ll be going now, if you don’t mind.” Tom held out his hand.

His father reached out. He clasped Tom’s hand tentatively for a moment and then pulled Tom in for a hug.

Tom stilled and then hugged his father in return. As they released one another, Tom clapped his father’s back and sighed theatrically. “You know, I’m kinda disappointed. I’d got the hereditary vampire thing almost worked out.” Turning to Chakotay, he pulled his lower jaw back, exposed his upper teeth and hissed. He stuck out his arms so his fingers hung down, opened his mouth and bent his head in the direction of his husband’s neck. “I vant to suck your blood!”

Chakotay slapped down Tom’s hands. “Down, ‘Drackenstein’!” He had learnt to enjoy the old horror movies Tom loved and recognized the mix-up in the ghouls being perpetrated. “We'll go, Owen. Say good-bye to Miriam for us.” He herded ‘Drackenstein’ toward the door. 

With his arms straight out in front of him and nerveless hands dangling from bent wrists, Tom produced a few more heavily-accented vampire catchphrases and shambled out of the library, stumbling every now and then when Chakotay prodded him. Once in the hallway, he shucked off his Drackenstein persona. He said good-bye to his father once more, and the two men headed back to their hotel.

~

The door had barely closed behind them when Tom flung himself at Chakotay. He wrapped his arms around him and promptly proceeded to kiss him fiercely. Tom’s hands did not remain in place for long. Soon one had Chakotay by the neck, holding his head right where Tom wanted it. The other briefly squeezed a neat handful of buttock, firmly stroked a material-covered hip, raced along the spine and finished by stroking through Chakotay’s hair.

Chakotay swore he felt every burning imprint of Tom’s lips on his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw and finally his lips. For a few seconds, he concentrated on bracing himself and when Tom’s tongue thrust its way between his lips, he kissed him in return. When he felt Tom lose some of the frantic edge to his passion, he nudged Tom in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Want you. Need you.” Tom’s pleading was mostly incoherent as he buried his face into the side of Chakotay’s neck. His tongue found the rapidly beating pulse and he licked over it several times before sucking the skin in an open-mouthed kiss.

Chakotay’s hands joined Tom’s, where they fumbled at his waist. Time was too precious to waste removing socks, and it was easier just to push Chakotay’s shirt open once the buttons were undone. 

Their joining was fast and furious and almost silent. The repetitive grunts and harsh breaths were barely louder than the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh or rustle of fabric. Chakotay stared up into Tom’s face. The light caught the sheen of sweat and threw contorted muscles into stark relief. The rictus of orgasm was a compelling sight.

Later, Tom rested his head on Chakotay’s chest, and listened to the steady beat of his heart. He sighed deeply and began to speak.

“This destiny thing…it frustrates me, you know. On one hand, I feel like I have no say in my future now. That it’s all mapped out. And then on the other, I think about choices. If I make a wrong one, I potentially fuck up the whole future, but how do I know it’s wrong? My Dad could have been activating that blue panel tonight if I’d gone along with his scheme and married one of his suggestions. Or what if I’d found another website and designed a different husband, or ended up with Chayton anyway. Now I’ll worry about everything. Do I take this job or that? Will I go here or there? What did I already decide? What if I make the wrong choice?”

Chakotay tightened his arms around Tom. “Does it bother you that we were meant to be together?”

“No! No, I love you. I’m glad we ended up together. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else by my side.”

“Neither can I, and now we walk together. The spirits guided my feet along this path and I believe they will continue to do so. The path may not always be smooth,” Chakotay smiled wryly, “but it gets me where I - we should be. If we stumble, they will guide us back. Sometimes they have to shove us, but we get there eventually. If you try and second guess yourself, you’ll end up going crazy.”

“I just need to have a little faith, huh?”

“That’s it.”

“Well, I have faith in you, you settler of scapegraces, you soother of scoundrels, you rehabilitator of reprobates, you – you – you reformer of ruffians!” Tom finished triumphantly as he attacked his husband’s ticklish spots with abandon, reassured they would deal with everything in their future the best way possible - together.

END

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The Intrepid Publishing Company, Delta Quadrant Romance Series and the blurb belong to Stormraven.
> 
> 2\. `I Can Make You a Man' is from `The Rocky Horror Picture Show' by Richard O'Brien.
> 
> 3\. Thanks to Darksusie for 'Susie's Super Studs'.


End file.
